ii 


LIBRARY 

University  of 

IRVINE^ 


The 

Expatriates 


By  Lilian  Bell 


New  York  and  London 
HARPER    fir    BROTHERS 

M  D  C  C  C  C 


PS 
1025 


Copyright,  1900,  by  LILIAN  BELL. 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

MY    HUSBAND 
ARTHUR  HOYT   BOGUE 


THE  EXPATRIATES 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  Paris.     It  was  May. 

A  tall  American  with  a  lean  brown  face  stood  on 
the  steps  of  the  Bazar  de  la  Charite",  and  watched  the 
carriages  thread  their  way  through  the  tangle  of  other 
carriages  and  discharge  their  burdens  of  chiffon  and 
lace  in  front  of  the  door. 

No  dull  pastime,  this.  To  Sterling  Townshend,  one 
of  the  best  whips  in  New  York,  the  reckless  driving  of 
Paris  coachmen  was  a  never-failing  source  of  interest. 
His  only  surprise  was  that,  after  all,  there  were  so  few 
human  lives  lost.  As  a  rule,  a  smash-up  only  injured 
the  horse. 

To-day,  in  watching  the  jam  in  the  rue  Jean  Goujon, 
he  had  for  his  excuse  that  he  was  waiting  for  his  cousin, 
the  Baronne  Valencia.  She,  like  himself,  was  an  Ameri 
can,  living  in  Paris  simply  because  life  in  the  French  cap 
ital  suited  their  taste  more  nearly  than  they  would  be 
suited  anywhere  else.  Theirs  was  a  simple  proposition. 
They  lived  in  Paris  because  they  liked  it.  Why  not  ? 

The  baronne  came  out  before  he  had  time  to  grow  im 
patient.  He  afterwards  remembered  wondering  why 
she  would  not  remain,  except  to  pass  through  the  rooms 
once,  and  to  leave  some  extravagant  orders  with  her 
most  intimate  friends. 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

The  young  Due  de  Briancourt,  undeniably  the  most 
sought-after  man  in  all  Paris,  was  desperately  enam 
oured  of  the  baronne,  who  was  still  beautiful  in  spite 
of  her  half-grown  children ;  but  she  frowned  upon  him 
with  an  amiability  which  kept  him  at  her  feet — perhaps 
as  excellent  and  harmless  a  place  as  he  could  occupy 
with  any  degree  of  interest. 

As  she  came  out  of  the  Bazar,  attended  by  the  due, 
Townshend  came  forward,  and  the  two  escorted  her  to  her 
carriage.  The  baronne  walked  easily  and  well.  She 
was  pleased  with  herself,  and  pleased  with  her  two  cava 
liers.  Her  cousin  Sterling  was  in  great  favor  with  her 
always. 

She  detained  them  both  for  a  moment  before  she  en 
tered  her  carriage,  telling  them  of  her  useless  purchases  ; 
but  even  as  she  spoke,  the  old  Duchesse  de  Briancourt,  ill 
pleased  that  the  rich  American  had  left  so  abruptly,  came 
to  the  door  to  ask  the  baronne  to  re-enter  and  see  her  laces. 
But  the  baronne,  having  spent  twenty  thousand  francs 
in  less  than  half  an  hour's  promenade,  smiled  and  de 
clined.  The  duchesse  was  for  pressing  her,  but  perceiv 
ing  an  impatient  movement  of  her  son's  shoulders,  she 
kissed  her  hands  to  the  American  and  went  back  to  her 
booth. 

"  My  adored  friend,"  said  the  young  man, "  will  you  not 
come  for  one  moment  with  me  to  see  the  cinematograph  ? 
Just  one  little  moment  of  your  time  I  am  asking  !  I, 
who  admire  you  so  profoundly !" 

The  baronne  shivered  under  her  transparent  gown, 
although  the  sun  broiled. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  1  am  not  superstitious,  but  I  have  a 
presentiment  that  I  must  hurry  away  from  this  Bazar. 
It  may  be  a  presentiment  of  the  soul  or  of  the  purse,  I  do 
not  know  ;  but  I  cannot  stop,  even  for  you." 

A  shadow  fell  over  the  Frenchman's  face,  but  he  put 
her  into  her  victoria  with  extravagant  care,  giving  her 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

a  tender  pressure  of  the  hand  which  made  her  cousin 
smile.  Then  the  due  bounded  up  the  steps  to  join  the 
American,  who  had  discreetly  withdrawn,  and  they  both 
watched  her  carriage  out  of  sight  before  re-entering  the 
Bazar. 

As  the  victoria  swept  into  the  Avenue  d'Antin,  the 
baronne  shifted  her  lace  parasol  and  looked  back. 
Then  she  sat  -  up  and  looked  again.  The  young  men 
were  just  disappearing,  while  over  their  unconscious 
heads  a  thin  blue  line  of  smoke  crept  up  from  the  tarred 
roof  into  the  clear  air. 

"  Something  must  be  on  fire  near  the  Bazar,"  thought 
the  baronne,  leaning  back  comfortably.  She  glanced 
at  the  little  carriage -clock  and  saw  that  it  was  just 
three. 

All  Paris  was  in  the  Bazar.  The  Faubourg  St.  Ger 
main  was  deserted.  The  Duchesse  de  Treves  was  sell 
ing 'tea  at  twenty  francs  a  cup,  and  the  smartest  women 
in  Paris  were  buying  it  of  her,  in  order  to  see  her  black 
pearls  at  close  range.  The  Duchesse  de  Fleury  was  for 
once  regardless  of  her  gay  daughters,  giving  her  whole 
mind  to  her  bonbons,  sitting  back  weighted  down  by  her 
three  hundred  pounds  of  flesh  and  her  priceless  cameos, 
taking  the  money  which  Claire  St.  James,  the  pretty  niece 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt,  was  extracting  from  the 
pockets  of  all  who  saw  her  big  brown  eyes. 

The  daughters  of  Madame  de  Fleury  were  happily 
within  sight  when  she  used  her  lorgnon  ;  otherwise  she 
would  not  have  been  so  tranquil.  Their  shrill  voices 
were  to  be  heard  at  the  flower  booth,  presided  over  by 
the  Marquise  d'Auteuil.  The  marquise  sat  by  grimly, 
and  disapproved  of  the  daughteis  of  her  old  friend  with 
all  her  heart.  They  were  too  bold,  too  aggressive,  and 
by  far  too  knowing.  But  then  they  spoke  English;  and 
cultivated  Americans.  What  could  one  expect  ?  They 
handed  her  far  too  many  gold  pieces  which  required  no 

3 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

change  for  her  to  criticise  them  now,  but  she  resolved 
to  speak  to  the  duchesse  at  her  earliest  opportunity.  It 
was  supposed  that  Comte  Antoine  d'Arcy  would  marry 
Lulu,  and  that  the  Comte  de  Rouen  would  eventually 
marry  Francine  if  the  duchesse  would  give  her  a  larger 
dot.  Otherwise  Paris  doubted  if  he  would  give  up  his 
liaison  with  Madame  Flamont.  Madame  Flamont  was 
the  married  daughter  of  the  Duchesse  de  Treves,  and  be 
sides  her  handsome  house  in  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain, 
she  rented  an  apartment  from  her  friend  the  Comtesse  de 
Brissy,  which  she  occasionally  occupied  with  the  utmost 
discretion. 

Lulu  and  Francine  de  Fleury,  in  turn,  were  quite 
openly  hostile  to  Claire  St.  James,  and  decided  her  to 
be  a  little  cat,  with  her  pale  cheeks,  against  which  her 
downcast  lashes  looked  so  effective.  Francine's  eyes 
flamed  fire  when  the  tall  American  paused  in  front  of 
Claire's  booth  and  talked  to  her.  She  wished  him  to 
hear  her  speak  her  English,  and  she  wished — well,  she 
wished  for  him  to  stand  and  talk  to  her.  She  hated  the 
little  Frenchmen  who  fluttered  about.  She  hated  them 
the  more  because  she  knew  that  she  must  eventually 
marry  one  of  them,  and  that  even  if  Mr.  Townshend 
should  be  sufficiently  attracted  by  her  American  man 
ners,  upon  which  she  so  prided  herself,  as  to  ask  for  her 
hand,  that  her  family  would  never  listen  to  the  proposi 
tion  for  one  moment. 

Unable  to  resist  the  temptation  any  longer,  the  young 
French  girl  darted  across  to  her  mother  under  pretext 
of  speaking  to  her.  Then  perceiving  Townshend,  she 
caught  his  hand  and  that  of  the  young  Marquis  d'Au- 
teuil,  and  laughingly  dragged  them  across  to  her 
booth. 

The  sister  of  an  empress,  who  was  presiding  over  a 
booth  near  by,  rose  to  her  feet  protestingly,  but  just  at 
that  moment  a  column  of  smoke  poured  in  upon  this  lit- 

4 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

tie  passageway,  and  in  an  instant  more  the  flames  broke 
through — from  where,  or  how,  only  God  knows. 

Cries  of  a  supreme  and  overmastering  terror  rose  above 
the  hissing  and  roaring  of  the  flames,  cries  which  sound 
ed  like  animals  in  mortal  pain.  The  human  element 
disappeared,  and  people  fought  like  demons. 

Townshend  recovered  himself  first,  and  struck  down 
a  Frenchman  who  was  beating  back  the  poor  Duchesse 
de  Treves,  who  was  lame.  He  seized  her  in  his  arms 
and  carried  her  towards  the  door.  Behind  him  he  heard 
the  insane  cries  of  the  hapless  daughter  of  the  unfort 
unate  house  of  Wittelsbach,  laughing  terribly  and  cry 
ing,  "  Oh,  the  beautiful  flames  !  the  beautiful  yellow 
flames  !"  Then  came  a  shriek  of  agony  and  silence,  ex 
cept  for  the  shouts  of  others. 

Suddenly,  in  a  whirl  of  silk  skirts,  some  one  rushed  by, 
tugged  at  the  gown  of  the  woman  in  Townshend's  arms, 
and  disappeared.  The  duchesse  screamed,  and  strug 
gled  to  free  herself  from  her  preserver. 

"  Oh,  my  pearls  !"  she  cried. 

Townshend  ground  his  teeth  and  held  her  tighter.  In 
an  instant  he  saw  daylight,  and  dropped  her  without 
ceremony,  watching  her  crawl  away  on  her  lame  knee, 
shrieking  for  her  black  pearls,  and  forgetting  to  thank 
her  preserver. 

The  Due  de  Briancourt  staggered  past  Townshend, 
dragging  the  fat  Duchesse  de  Fleury  by  one  arm. 

"  They  are  beating  me !  They  are  killing  me  \" 
wailed  the  Frenchwoman. 

Comte  d'Arcy  trod  on  her  prostrate  body  as  all  four 
reached  the  door  together  and  were  dragged  out  of  dan 
ger  by  those  outside. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  mother  !"  cried  the  Due  de  Briancourt. 
"  I  am  too  exhausted.  I  cannot  go  back.  Save  her, 
Townshend  !  Save  her,  my  best  friend  !" 

Without  another  word  Townshend  sprang  into  the 

5 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

smoking,  burning  death  -  trap.  There  was  no  possi 
bility  of  going  back  to  the  spot  where  he  had  left  all  his 
friends.  But  hearing  voices  in  another  direction,  he 
plunged  through  the  smoke  down  a  side  passage,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  saw  light.  He  stumbled  over  the  insen 
sible  body  of  poor  Francine  de  Fleury,  whom  he  had 
considered  saved  because  she  continued  to  cling  to  the 
hand  of  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil.  He  caught  her  up  and 
hurried  along,  quite  unembarrassed  by  her  slender 
weight. 

As  he  reached  the  light,  he  saw  that  it  proceeded  from 
a  small  window  leading  out  to  where  rescuers  stood  ;  but 
to  his  horror  he  also  saw  that  all  those  who  were  escaping 
were  men,  who  beat  down  the  women,  struck  them  on  the 
head  or  in  the  face,  and,  rendered  insane  by  their  terror, 
saved  themselves  at  any  cost.  The  frantic  screams  of 
a  young  girl  on  the  outside,  the  voice  of  Claire  St.  James, 
came  to  his  ears. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  aunt !  Save  her,  gentlemen  !  You 
are  treading  her  to  death.  She  is  beneath  the  win 
dow.  I  escaped  over  her  shoulders  !  For  shame  for 
you  to  leave  her  !  Oh,  my  poor  aunt  !  Gentlemen,  I 
beg  of  you !  Turn  back  and  save  her,  for  the  love  of 
God!"  ' 

Townshend  saw  the  half-nude  body  of  a  woman  be 
neath  the  window,  covered  with  blood.  In  a  fury  wrhich 
he  never  tried  to  explain,  he  attacked  an  old  man  with 
rouged  lips  and  painted  cheeks,  who  had  his  foot  upon 
the  woman,  and  knocked  him  senseless. 

The  baronne  had  not  reached  home  after  leaving 
the  Bazar  before  she  saw  cabs  driving  by,  carrying 
half -dressed  women  covered  with  the  coachmen's 
blue  overcoats.  One,  two,  three  rushed  by  her.  She 
stood  up  and  cried  to  them,  asking  what  had  hap 
pened. 

6 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  The  Bazar  de  la  Charit6  is  burning  to  the  ground  1" 
they  answered. 

In  an  instant  her  horses  were  galloping  back  to  the 
rue  Jean  Goujon,  which  she  found  blocked  from  end  to 
end.  Gathering  her  gossamer  skirts  tightly  about  her, 
she  made  her  way  to  the  side  of  the  Bazar,  to  the  famous 
window  by  which  so  many  of  the  brave  men  of  Paris 
made  their  escape.  They  met  her  scornful  eyes  as  they 
leaped  to  the  ground,  one  after  another,  unhurt,  un- 
scorched  even,  scuttling  away  like  so  many  scared  rats, 
never  turning  back  even  when  hearing  the  agonized 
voice  of  poor  Claire  St.  James. 

Suddenly  her  screams  ceased,  for  at  the  window, 
against  a  background  of  inky  smoke,  punctuated  by  jets 
of  flame,  appeared  the  strained  face  of  the  American, 
with  the  young  French  girl  in  his  arms.  His  gray  eyes 
were  bloodshot,  his  face  streaked  with  black,  and  his 
teeth  gleamed  with  a  curious  whiteness ;  but  eager 
rescuers  received  his  burden.  Then  he  disappeared 
for  a  moment,  and  with  a  tremendous  effort  he  lifted 
the  dead  weight  of  the  unfortunate  Duchesse  de  Brian- 
court,  the  veins  in  his  temples  swelling  almost  to  burst 
ing  under  the  violence  of  his  exertion.  A  dozen  arms 
reached  up  to  bear  her  down  in  safety. 

"  Save  yourself  !"  cried  a  score  of  voices ;  but  the 
American  turned  back  once  more  to  secure  the  little  old 
man  who  lay  in  a  limp  twist  under  his  feet.  Straining, 
groaning  with  pain,  his  lips  drawn  back  from  his  teeth 
like  an  animal,  Townshend  raised  himself  and  reached 
the  window-sill.  A  sudden  swirl  of  smoke  poured  out, 
the  flames  scorching  his  hair  and  the  blackness  hiding 
him  from  sight.  A  shout  of  horror  and  sobs  and  groans 
of  pity  came  from  those  outside.  Was  he  lost — the 
brave  American  ?  But  no  !  A  body  leaped  from  the 
pouring  smoke  and  fell  beneath  the  window. 

The  baronne,  his  cousin,  and  Claire  St.  James  dragged 

7 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  little  old  man  and  the  tall  American  out  of  danger. 
The  girl's  sobs  were  choking  her  as  she  saw  her  aunt's 
body. 

"  The  window  was  too  high,  baronne.  We  could  not 
reach  it,  so  she  stooped  and  bade  me  step  upon  her  poor 
shoulders.  1  did  so,  and  was  only  half  way  out  when 
a  man  struck  me  with  his  stick,  and  1  fell  to  the  ground 
here  and  broke  my  arm.  1  must  have  lost  conscious 
ness  for  a  few  moments,  for  I  remember  nothing  more 
until  1  saw  you  and  remembered  that  my  aunt  was  still 
there." 

"  I  fear  my  cousin  was  too  late,"  said  the  baronne. 
"  Her  heart  beats  very  faintly.  If  only  we  could  get 
her  to  my  carriage.  Ah,  here  comes  her  son  !  Gently, 
my  poor  friend.  Your  mother  is  saved,  although  shock 
ingly  injured  !" 

With  a  great  cry  the  young  man  bent  over  her  and 
gathered  her  bleeding  form  close  to  his  breast,  while 
the  tears  streamed  from  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  mother  !  My  beautiful  little  maman  ! 
Open  your  eyes  and  speak  to  your  boy  !  Live  !  Live  ! 
for  my  sake  !  I,  who  love  you  so  !" 

He  staggered  to  his  feet,  lifting  her  poor  body,  which 
the  baronne  covered  with  the  blue  skirt  of  a  peasant, 
and  so  bore  her  through  the  crowd,  who  gave  way  be 
fore  his  tears  and  his  piteous  burden,  and  thus  he  car 
ried  her  into  a  house  near  by.  Claire  followed,  holding 
the  rough  covering  in  place  with  her  uninjured  hand. 
And  it  was  the  baronne  who  ran  back  to  her  cousin, 
who  lay,  still  unconscious,  where  she  had  dragged  him. 

The  next  day  the  papers  contained  lists  of  the  dead 
and  injured — all  women.  Then  people  began  to  whis 
per,  then  to  murmur,  then  to  speak  openly.  Accusation 
followed  innuendo,  until  Paris  society  was  on  the  verge 
of  complete  disruption.  Some  challenges  were  made, 

8 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

but  these  opened  up  such  a  series  of  internal  wars  that 
the  newspapers  finally  announced  that  it  was  a  wom 
an's  bazar,  and  that  no  men  had  been  present.  One 
even  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  an  American  named 
Townshend  was  seen  to  leap  from  a  side  window  to  save 
himself.  But  this  injustice  the  Due  de  Briancourt  cor 
rected  over  his  own  name. 

Townshend  had  not  even  a  sprained  ankle  to  show 
for  his  leap  from  the  window.  His  scorched  hair  he  or 
dered  shaved  close  to  his  head ;  but  in  spite  of  no  men 
having  been  present,  day  after  day  one  saw  carriages, 
with  servants  in  deep  mourning,  driving  in  the  Champs 
Elysees  and  the  Bois,  containing  dignified  old  men  done 
up  in  bandages  guiltless  either  of  blood  or  healing  salve, 
while  padded  young  dandies  wore  their  arms  in  splints 
with  admirable  patience  and  fortitude. 

Paris  discreetly  winked  the  eye,  and  paid  visits  of 
condolence,  and  went  to  masses  for  the  dead  women, 
while  continuing  to  receive  the  living  men.  The  post 
was  filled  for  months  with  black-bordered  letters,  de 
scribing,  as  no  alien  pen  can,  one  of  the  most  painful 
and  horrible  tragedies  of  the  history  of  the  French  na 
tion. 

Funerals  took  place  where  the  caskets  contained  only 
a  few  female  bones,  with,  perhaps,  a  pattern  of  old  lace 
attached  by  which  to  identify  them. 

The  mother  of  young  d'Arcy  was  identified  by  a  sil 
ver  button  in  a  torso,  which  had  been  placed  there  dur 
ing  a  surgical  operation. 

Whole  families  were  wiped  out  in  an  hour,  and  at 
night  the  husband  and  father  had  but  a  few  scattered 
bones  of  his  wife  and  daughters,  which  he  buried  in  one 
grave. 

As  to  the  bandages  and  who  were  the  real  sufferers, 
only  the  valets  and  the  doctors  knew. 

9 


CHAPTER  II 

DRIVE  up  the  Avenue  des  Champs  ElysSes  until 
you  reach  the  Rond  Point,  then  turn  to  your  left  until 
you  come  to  rue  Francois  ler,  and  there  you  will  find 
the  hotel  of  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil  and  her  widowed 
daughter,  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy. 

Their  hotel  is  not  as  grand  as  you  would  expect  to  find 
it  from  a  name  which  dates  back  as  far  and  records 
achievements  such  as  those  of  both  d'Auteuil  and  de 
Brissy.  But  the  debts  of  the  son  of  the  marquise, the  Mar 
quis  Raoul  d'Auteuil,  had  been  of  such  enormous  pro 
portions  that  the  payment  even  of  a  portion  of  them 
had  necessitated  the  sale  of  one  of  their  two  family 
estates.  The  comtesse,  being  still  a  young  woman, 
naturally  preferred  to  keep  the  hotel  in  the  Boulevard 
St.  Germain  and  to  sacrifice  Vrianault,  their  chateau  in 
Touraine,  famous  for  its  priceless  tapestries.  But  this 
suggestion  was  received  with  such  ferocity  by  her  mother 
that  it  set  the  clever  daughter  to  thinking.  What  could 
be  the  reason  for  such  tigerish  love  ? 

But  the  proud  old  Frenchwoman  kept  her  secret. 
Why  should  she  tell  Eugenie  ?  Eugenie  loved  Raoul 
with  such  blind  idolatry  that  she  would  sacrifice  tra 
dition,  pride,  everything  to  give  him  whatever  he  wished. 
She  never  knew  of  the  bitter  poverty  of  her  mother's 
girlhood,  of  the  anguish  the  poor  branch  of  the  family 
endured  at  the  riches  and  display  of  the  elder  son's 
family.  The  marquise  had  married  her  cousin — mar 
ried  him  without  love,  breaking  her  own  heart  in  so  do- 

10 


ing,  had  taken  the  handsome  dot  which  had  entailed 
privations  to  provide,  and  all  for  what  ?  To  join  the 
two  families,  to  weld  the  inheritance,  to  become  the  mis 
tress  of  Vrianault,  and  to  own  the  tapestries  !  In  look 
ing  back  over  her  loveless  life,  the  marquise  thought 
bitterly  that  Eug6nie  might  have  suggested  the  sale 
of  her  two  eyes  with  less  pain  than  the  loss  of  the  tap 
estries  would  prove. 

Thus,  three  years  ago,  they  had  sold  the  town-house 
to  the  Baronne  Valencia,  an  American,  whose  fortune 
kept  up  its  magnificence  suitably,  and  for  three  years 
the  marquis  had  the  grace  to  leave  his  mother  and  sis 
ter  in  a  sort  of  suspicious  peace.  But  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  when  he  made  really  a  clean  breast  of  affairs, 
there  were  but  two  things  from  which  to  choose :  utter 
ruin  and  perhaps  his  suicide,  or  the  sale  of  Vrianault. 

The  Marquis  d'Auteuil  was  twenty-six,  and  cool  be 
yond  most  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  but  even  he  was 
not  proof  against  the  grayness  which  overspread  his 
mother's  face  at  this  ultimatum.  Then  the  comtesse 
came  to  the  rescue  with  another  suggestion.  A  rich 
American  !  She  made  it  timidly,  almost  fearfully.  She 
was  afraid  her  mother  might  strike  her,  for  the 
mention  of  so  great  sacrilege.  And  as  to  Raoul — 
she  watched  his  white  face  apprehensively.  What 
could  have  happened  to  stir  him  so  ?  He  wore  his 
cloak  of  debts  so  lightly,  this  haggard  anxiety  must 
portend  some  secret  fear.  What  discovery  overshad 
owed  him  ?  It  was  suspicious,  too,  the  way  in  which 
he  agreed  to  the  suggestion,  stipulating  only  that  he 
should  be  allowed  to  go  to  America  at  once  to  be  quite 
sure  the  riches  were  there  and  to  be  had.  He  would  take 
no  risks — not  he  !  He  made  a  wry  face  when  his  sister 
mentioned  the  only  rich  American  they  knew,  Miss 
Maria  Hollenden,  but  he  made  no  promises  either  way. 

He  persuaded  his  sister  to  mortgage  her  apartment- 

ii 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

house  in  the  rue  Marbeuf,  to  provide  him  with  a  hand 
somer  sum  than  his  mother  could  afford,  and  then  he 
set  off,  leaving  the  two  women  in  their  little  h  tel  in  rue 
Francois  ier,  to  get  on  as  best  they  could. 

That  Eugenie  would  manage,  he  felt  sure.  A  hand 
some,  well-fed  Jew  owned  the  hotel  and  let  it  to  the  com- 
tesse  on  terms  the  exact  nature  of  which  no  one  knew. 
But  when  the  comtesse  negotiated  the  marriage  of  the 
Jew's  son  to  the  pretty  daughter  of  an  impoverished 
friend  of  hers,  and  chaperoned  the  Jew's  daughter  for 
a  season  at  Hombourg,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  Com 
tesse  de  Brissy  was  well  recompensed  for  these  services. 
She  sometimes  revolted  from  the  thought  of  her  con 
descension,  but  her  straitened  means  were  such  that 
her  ancient  lineage  was  often  called  upon  to  be  her  bank 
er.  To  add  to  her  discomfort,  her  brother  was  always 
calling  for  more  money  and  shifting  his  gaming  debts 
upon  her  shoulders. 

But  who  could  resist  him  ?  His  sad  brown  eyes  had 
almost  the  same  effect  upon  his  own  sister  as  upon  every 
other  woman  upon  whom  he  chose  to  bend  them.  His 
pale  face  spoke  of  infinite  refinement,  and  his  hands 
were  the  most  famous  in  all  Paris.  They  were  finer 
and  more  delicate  than  any  woman's,  and  more  than 
once  he  had  posed  through  sheer  vanity  for  the  hands 
of  some  beautiful  female  statue,  whose  model  had  not 
possessed  hands  of  the  required  delicacy.  This  very 
season  one  of  the  most  talked-of  pictures  in  the  Salon 
boasted  Raoul  d'Auteuil's  hands  peeping  from  the 
point  de  Venise  laces  in  a  certain  "  Portrait  of  a 
Lady." 

His  sister's  pride  in  his  triumphs  was  almost  as  great 
as  his.  She  plotted  and  schemed  to  furnish  him  money 
with  a  diabolical  cleverness  which  her  own  necessities 
never  called  forth. 

Quite  near  by,  in  the  rue  Marbeuf,  she  had  let  the  en- 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

t resol  of  one  of  her  apartment-houses  to  Miss  Maria  Hol- 
lenden,  who  lived  there  alone  with  an  elderly  maid  and 
two  men-servants. 

This,  of  itself,  is  not  an  important  fact,  save  that  it 
ministered  in  opposite  ways  to  each  of  the  two  women. 
Maria  Hollenden  would  not  have  occupied  the  entresol 
of  any  other  apartment-house  in  all  Paris,  but  to  rent 
from  the  Cofntesse  de  Brissy  was  to  have  frequent 
dealings  with  her  personally.  The  comtesse  had  in 
duced  her  to  take  it  on  a  six-year  lease  at  twice  the  rent 
she  asked  the  French  occupants  of  the  other  apartments 
by  assuring  her  that  ordinarily  she  would  not  rent  to 
Americans,  but  in  this  instance  she  would  let  it  to  her 
friend,  her  dear  little  friend  Maria. 

That  word  "  friend  "  finished  the  transaction,  for  before 
she  had  done  speaking  Maria  signified  that  she  would 
take  the  apartment,  and  in  three  days'  time  had  saddled 
herself  with  a  French  lease,  at  an  enormous  rental,  of  an 
apartment  with  three  sides  fronting  on  the  streets,  there 
by  making  herself  a  pretty  penny  to  pay  on  door  and 
window  tax  alone. 

The  Marquise  d'Auteuil  had  been  a  famous  hunts- 
woman  in  her  day.  For  that  reason  she  still  retained 
the  mannishness — one  cannot  say  gentlemanliness — 
of  her  dress  at  the  period  when  she  rode.  Her  grayish- 
brown  hair  was  short  and  straight,  and  she  parted  it  on 
the  side.  She  wore  no  stays,  but  her  tailor-gown  was 
tight-fitting,  with  large  buttons  set  widely  apart  down 
the  front  of  her  bodice.  She  trod  the  earth  in  flat-heeled 
English  boots,  and  with  a  stride  so  long  that  it  turned 
her  sideways  at  each  step.  An  Englishwoman  in  her 
place  would  have  looked  the  part,  but  when  a  French 
woman  copies  English  clothes  she  never  remembers  to 
translate  the  text  of  herself  to  match  her  binding. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  in  a  throaty  voice  which  she  had 
carefully  cultivated  since  she  once  rode  to  hounds  in 

'3 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

England — "  my  dear,  how  did  you  manage  to  rent  the 
entresol  to  your  protegee  at  such  a  price  ?" 

"  By  telling  her  that  I  hated  Americans/'  answered 
her  daughter. 

"  Ah,  and  then  ?" 

*  Then  I  said  I  would  let  it  to  her." 

"  Did  she  take  it  upon  that  ?" 

"  No,  she  still  hesitated,  so  I  called  her  '  my  dear 
friend,  Maria/  and  then  she  signed  the  lease." 

The  marquise  laughed. 

"  I  smell  cigarettes/'  she  said.  "  Has  Alexandre  de 
Briancourt  been  here  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  made  Maria  smoke  one.  It  makes  her  so  ill 
I  delight  to  do  it." 

"  That  is  not  like  you,  my  angel,"  said  her  mother. 

"  No,  but  these  Americans  make  me  vicious.  They 
bring  out  all  the  barbarism  in  my  nature.  I  would  like 
to  kill  Maria  for  her  ugly  face  and  her  millions  and  her 
fawning  ways." 

"  You  are  vexed,  too,  over  Hedwig's  giving  notice  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  more  than  vexed  ;  1  am  distressed.  Think 
how  long  it  took  me  to  train  her  just  how  I  wanted  my 
palms  tickled,  and  just  how  to  put  me  to  sleep.  I  never 
shall  have  the  courage  to  train  another  maid." 

"  I  am  surprised  that  your  '  dear  friend '  Maria  does 
not  offer.  You  permitted  her  to  brush  your  hair  when 
you  were  nervous.  You  will  have  her  in  a  cap  and 
apron  next." 

The  comtesse  laughed. 

"  She  is  rather  proud,  for  an  American,  in  spite  of  all 
that  I  allow  her  to  do  for  me.  She  is  coming  this  after 
noon  to  take  me  to  drive." 

"  You  are  very  clever,  Eugenie,  but  I  think  I  would  not 
condescend  to  too  great  an  intimacy  with  Americans. 
They  are  so  pushing." 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Mile.  Hollenden  at  least 

*4 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

saves  me  cab  hire,"  said  the  comtesse,  with  a  little  laugh, 
as  she  saw  the  carriage  of  her  American  tenant  drive  up. 

The  comtesse  possessed  rather  a  sad  face  when  in  re 
pose,  and  it  was  one  of  Maria  Hollenden' s  greatest  pleas 
ures  to  cause  her  face  to  light  up  with  a  smile.  For  this 
purpose  she  expended  time  and  money  lavishly  until 
she  nattered  herself  that  the  Frenchwoman's  smile  was 
the  result  of  enjoyment  in  her  American  friendship. 

They  had  met  in  Rome,  whither  the  comtesse  had  gone 
upon  the  death  of  her  husband.  She  was  prostrated 
with  grief,  and  Maria,  there  also  with  her  elderly  maid 
and  a  paid  travelling  companion,  courted  her  with  flow 
ers,  fruits,  books,  and  music  until  finally  the  comtesse 
sent  for  her,  and  the  American  woman's  ambition  was 
realized.  She  was  face  to  face  with  a  woman  of  title, 
a  woman  of  ancient  lineage,  of  proud  name  and  of  noble 
birth.  In  all  this  she  was  not  mistaken,  as  Americans 
are  prone  to  be  in  their  titled  friends,  for  Vrianault  was 
one  of  the  oldest  chateaux  in  Touraine,  and  the  family 
d'Auteuil  was  of  royal  descent. 

So  assiduously  did  Miss  Hollenden  pay  attentions  to 
the  comtesse  that  in  a  moment  of  weakness  the  French 
woman,  bored,  sad,  and  in  need  of  diversion,  suggested 
that  Miss  Hollenden  pay  her  a  few  days'  visit  at  Vria 
nault  on  her  way  north. 

At  that  invitation  the  supreme  moment  of  the  Ameri 
can's  life  arrived. 

There  is  something  strangely  pathetic  about  an  Amer 
ican  woman's  worship  of  titles.  It  is  so  sincere,  so  deep- 
rooted,  so  overpoweringly  honest.  Let  Americans  try 
to  conceal  it  as  they  will — let  the  men  mock  and  the  wom 
en  dissemble — yet,  within  an  hour  after  they  have  really 
met  a  man  of  title,  both  will  find  themselves  talking  of  it. 

"  Beastly  bore,  these  women's  teas,"  says  the  scoffer 
dropping  in  at  his  club.  "  My  wife  has  one  to-day,  and 
I  only  stayed  to  say  '  How  d'ye  do'  to  Lord  Graystone- 

'5 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

house.  The  women  are  all  going  crazy  about  him,  as 
women  do  over  a  title.  By-the-way,  have  you  met  him  ?" 

And  the  dissembler  says  : 

"  My  dear,  have  you  met  the  Marquise  de  Fashoda  ? 
She  is  simply  enchanting.  She  has  asked  me  to  visit 
her  this  summer  at  her  place  in  Switzerland.  I  gave  her 
a  tea  this  afternoon.  So  sorry  1  did  not  know  you  were 
in  town,  or  1  would  have  asked  you,  but  I  only  had  a  few, 
you  know.  The  marquise  is  so  exclusive.  But  she  was 
delighted  with  the  sincerity  of  the  Americans,  she  said." 

At  their  respective  hotels,  Lord  Graystonehouse  is 
probably  cursing  the  damned  nuisance  of  having  one's 
host  stick  so  close  to  one's  heels,  and  introduce  one  to 
every  one  on  the  whole  place,  while  the  marquise  is  re 
lating  with  fine  rage  to  her  sympathetic  maid  how  those 
women  squeezed  and  wrung  her  hand  and  ground  her 
rings  into  it  until  her  fingers  were  bleeding  from  her 
diamonds. 

"  And  they  call  such  inhuman  torture — sincerity  !" 
cries  the  marquise,  never  knowing  that  each  woman  had 
tried  to  impress  her  individuality  upon  the  titled  prize 
by  main  force,  simply  because  of  the  magic  handle  to 
her  name. 

And  so  Maria  Hollenden  was  for  three  days  the  guest 
of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  at  Vrianault.  She  wrote  to 
her  father  that  she  was  there  for  three  weeks — not  that 
she  intended  to  falsify  things,  but  somehow  her  state 
ments  were  not  quite  accurate,  especially  when  dealing 
with  persons  of  title  and  ancient  chateaux. 

These  letters,  written  at  great  length  and  with  gener 
ous  imagination,  had  no  small  effect  upon  the  Michigan 
lumberman,  who  had  made  his  huge  fortune  in  lumber, 
after  he  had  made  and  lost  one  fortune  in  the  Nevada 
mines  when  he  had  married  the  mother  of  Maria. 

It  struck  him  as  little  short  of  magic  that  this  low-born 
daughter  of  his,  who  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  all 

16 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

the  mean  and  sordid  of  his  life,  and  the  bitter  poverty  of 
his  early  years,  should  now  be  on  terms  of  intimacy  with 
the  nobility  of  the  Old  World.  If  it  had  been  Rose,  now, 
or  Shirley,  it  would  have  seemed  more  fitting.  They 
were  the  product  of  his  advancement.  They  belonged 
to  his  prosperity  and  his  success.  They  were  contem 
poraneous  ;  but  Maria  marked  an  epoch  which  he  looked 
back  upon  with  wonder  and  a  certain  grim  American 
humor. 

As  Maria  drove  to  the  hotel  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy 
in  rue  Francois  ier,  a  year  after  leasing  her  entresol, 
she  was  turning  over  in  her  mind  the  astonishing  news 
of  the  family  reunion  which  her  father  was  bringing 
about.  She  was  utterly  upset  between  her  fine  rage  of 
eagerness  to  see  her  adored  father  and  her  instinctive 
jealousy  of  this  new  sister,  whose  youth  menaced  her 
supremacy  even  if  her  beauty,  as  shown  by  photographs, 
was  inconsiderable. 

"  You  seem  distraite,  my  dear,"  said  the  comtesse,  as 
she  stepped  into  Maria's  little  hired  victoria.  "  Where 
shall  we  drive  1" 

"  Oh,  in  the  Bois,  I  suppose,"  answered  Maria.  "  I 
have  something  to  tell  you." 

"  And  I  something  to  tell  you.  But  I  want  to  go  first 
to  consult  Falize  about  a  communion  set.  Now,  what  is 
your  news  ?  Mine  is  surely  the  best,  so  it  can  wait." 

"  My  news  is  that  my  father  and  Rose  and  Shirley 
are  coming  to  Paris  to  live.  We  are  all  to  live  together  ! 
Fancy  !" 

"  The  entresol  1"  thought  the  comtesse,  with  a  contrac 
tion  of  the  heart.  Then  she  leaned  back  contentedly 
as  she  remembered  the  six-year  lease,  and  how  helpless 
an  American  is  in  the  clutches  of  French  law. 

"  Ah,  and  shall  you  like  that  ?  It  must  be  charming 
to  have  a  sister.  I  never  had  one.  And  I  might  al 
most  say  I  have  no  brother,  with  Raoul  away  trav- 
B  17 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

elling  so  constantly.  Last  winter  in  Egypt,  now  in 
America." 

Maria  blushed  at  the  mention  of  Raoul's  name.  The 
watchful  eye  of  the  comtesse  saw  it,  and  she  ground  her 
teeth  imperceptibly  as  she  noticed  how  unbecoming  a 
blush  was  to  poor  Maria's  muddy  skin. 

"MonDieul  It  is  almost  too  much/'  she  said  to  her 
self. 

"  And  you,  what  is  your  news  ?" 

"  Stay.  We  have  not  yet  gone  over  all  of  yours. 
When  are  they  coming  ?" 

"  Within  the  month." 

"  And  they  will  set  up  an  establishment,  I  suppose  ? 
You  will  have  an  hotel  ?" 

"  Hardly  that,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Maria.  "  A  fine 
apartment,  I  suppose." 

"  But  your  father  is  very  rich,  is  he  not  ?"  said  the 
comtesse,  with  that  curious  glistening  of  the  eye  which 
marks  the  mention  of  money  with  the  French. 

"  Yes,  he  is  said  to  be,"  answered  Maria,  proudly. 

*  How  rich,  do  you  imagine  ?"  persisted  the  comtesse. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know/'  answered  the  American,  moving 
uneasily.  She  always  felt  something  closing  around 
her  when  the  comtesse  discussed  her  father's  wealth. 

"  Up  in  the  millions  of  francs,  I  suppose,"  persisted 
the  comtesse. 

"  Even  in  the  millions  of  dollars,  if  you  like,"  flashed 
out  Maria.  She  had  sometimes  to  recall  forcibly  that 
the  comtesse  was  really  a  d'Auteuil,  and  therefore  a 
representative  of  the  very  best  in  all  France,  otherwise 
she  might  almost  have  thought  her  a  trifle  vulgar,  judged 
by  American  standards. 

"  But  your  family  is  not  like  the  ordinary  American 
nouveau  riche,"  proceeded  the  comtesse,  amiably.  "  The 
description  you  have  given  me  of  the  vast  forests  your 
father  owned  and  drove  about  in,  as  the  English  drive 

18 


THE   EXPATRIATES 

through  the  enormous  parks  on  their  estates,  makes  the 
American  lumber  industry  very  unlike  the  soap  or 
grocery  business.  It  is  in  such  vast  solitudes,  in  such 
exquisite  communion  with  nature,  that  your  father  has 
developed  all  the  poetic  side  of  his  character  that  you 
tell  me  of.  Money  made  in  that  way,  owning  woods 
and  natural  parks,  is  cleaner  than  anything  I  have 
ever  heard  of  in  the  States.  You  may  congratulate 
yourself,  Maria.  I  have  often  said  you  were  not  at  all 
like  an  American." 

"  I  am  not  like  a  Cook's  tourist,  if  you  mean  that," 
said  Maria,  bridling  and  pushing  out  her  little  thin 
chest  as  she  glanced  up  at  two  coaches  laden  with 
American  tourists  on  their  way  to  Versailles.  One  coach 
stopped  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  a  young  girl 
leaned  forward  and  snapped  her  camera  at  the  victoria. 

"  How  American  1"  said  the  comtesse,  thrusting  her 
parasol  between  her  face  and  Maria,  to  prevent  any 
further  outrage. 

Maria  said  nothing.  The  victoria  swept  around 
the  fountains  and  swung  into  the  rue  Royale.  At 
the  head  of  it  rose  the  majestic  columns  of  the  Made 
leine,  its  noble  sweep  of  staircase  black  with  people. 

"  What  is  going  on  in  the  Madeleine  to-day  ?"  asked 
Maria. 

"  The  mass  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  Marquis 
de  Mores,"  answered  the  comtesse.  "  Shall  we  stop  ?" 

"  Do  let  us  !"  answered  Maria. 

They  descended,  and,  entering  the  beautiful,  cool, 
dim  church,  they  took  their  places  on  the  left  of  the  central 
aisle,  with  the  women.  While  the  comtesse  devoutly 
knelt,  Maria  watched  the  black-robed  figures  of  the  fam 
ily  on  the  front  seats  and  thought  with  a  sickening  sense 
of  impotence  how  little  chance  she  stood  of  ever  know 
ing  the  people^who  gathered  here  every  year  to  do  honor 
to  the  brave  young  explorer  who  was  so  foully  murdered 

19 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

in  the  flower  of  his  manhood.  It  was  a  representative 
gathering  of  the  nobility  of  France  who  knelt  in  the  Ma 
deleine  that  day,  but  Maria's  mind  dwelt  more  upon 
their  social  value  than  upon  the  fine  and  tender  senti 
ment  which  would  gather  several  hundred  of  the  rank 
and  fashion  of  the  gayest  capital  in  Europe  to  do  honor 
to  a  hero's  memory  two  years  after  his  death  in  Africa. 

The  candles  nickered,  the  black  pall  was  spread,  the 
choir  chanted,  the  people  knelt,  and  then  silently  left 
the  church  without  recognizing  each  other. 

Once  on  the  steps,  however,  in  the  flood  of  Paris  sun 
shine,  the  Paris  spirit  of  irrepressible  gayety  burst  forth. 
The  comtesse  was  surrounded  at  once.  She  laughed 
and  coquetted  and  chattered  with  one  and  all,  ignoring 
the  agonized  appeal  in  the  American's  eyes,  and  frank 
ly  turning  her  back  on  the  mistress  of  the  victoria.  But 
Maria  was  accustomed  to  not  being  introduced.  She 
writhed  inwardly,  and  in  private  shed  many  bitter  tears 
over  it,  but  she  never  dared  mention  it  to  the  comtesse — 
which  shows  admirable  control  on  both  sides. 

As  they  drove  away,  the  comtesse  turned  suddenly  to 
Maria,  whose  face  was  drawn  and  white  with  chagrin, 
and  said  : 

"  Maria,  if  Raoul  could  reach  your  father  in  America 
before  he  sails,  I  would  not  tell  you  of  his  hopes.  But 
your  news  precipitates  matters,  and  therefore  I  shall 
take  the  liberty  of  telling  you  that  he  is  going  to  pro 
pose  for  your  hand." 

Every  muscle  in  Maria's  little  thin  body  tightened, 
and  her  breath  came  through  her  set  teeth  with  a  hiss 
ing  noise.  She  only  turned  dumbly  to  the  comtesse, 
begging  for  reassurance  for  her  doubting  ears. 

"  It  is  quite  true.  His  letters  are  filled  with  nothing 
else.  Raoul  wishes  to  marry  you." 

As  they  entered  the  shop  of  Falize,  Maria  still  had 
said  nothing.  The  son  of  the  famous  goldsmith  came 

20 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

out  to  meet  them,  and  spread  before  them  the  designs  of 
the  communion  set.  The  comtesse  went  into  ecstasies 
over  it.  It  was  the  third  design  he  had  made  before  her 
fastidious  taste  could  be  satisfied. 

"  And  how  much  will  this  be  ?"  she  asked  him. 

"  In  silver,  it  would  be  about  forty  thousand  francs." 

"  Forty  thousand  !  Mon  Dieu  !  Impossible  !"  cried 
the  comtesse,  flinging  up  her  hands. 

"  But  consider,  comtesse,"  said  M.  Falize,  "  the  work 
on  it,  the  carving,  the  delicate  tracery  of  these  figures, 
this  bas-relief.  See,  1  wish  to  show  you  the  couronne 
that  M.  le  President  Faure  has  ordered  for  the  tomb  of 
the  late  Tzar.  See  this  laurel  wreath  in  pure  gold.  Is 
it  not  beautiful  ?" 

"  Ah,  the  noble  simplicity  of  it  !"  cried  the  comtesse, 
clasping  her  hands.  "  The  delicacy  of  feeling  !  It  is 
worthy  of  you  and  of  your  father,  M.  Falize." 

"  Thank  you,  comtesse,"  said  M.  Falize,  laying  his 
hand  upon  his  heart.  The  famous  goldsmith  was  an 
artist,  not  merely  a  shopkeeper  for  jewels. 

"  But  1  cannot  possibly  have  the  communion  set,  much 
as  1  wish  it,"  said  she,  letting  her  glance  fall  regretful 
ly  upon  the  beautiful  designs. 

In  America,  the  goldsmith  would  have  said  : 

"  Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  madam,  why  have  you 
kept  us  at  work  on  these  designs  for  three  months,  if 
you  had  no  intention  of  ordering  from  them  ?" 

Not  so  with  M.  Falize.  They  manage  things  dif 
ferently  in  France. 

The  American  moved  forward  and  laid  her  hand  on 
the  designs. 

"  Do  you  care  for  these  so  especially  ?"  she  said,  in 
a  curious  voice. 

"  Yes.  1  wanted  to  make  an  offering  to  the  Church 
on  the  anniversary  of  Pierre's  death,"  said  the  com 
tesse,  with  emotion. 

21 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Maria  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  and  her  nostrils 
went  white  with  dilation. 

"  How  much  would  the  set  be,  made  of  gold  ?"  she  in 
quired. 

Falize  dropped  his  eyes  discreetly.  The  comtesse 
grew  pale. 

"  About  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  madame,"  he 
said. 

"  Make  it  in  gold  for  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy,  and  send 
the  bill  to  me,"  she  said,  quietly. 

Tears  from  some  unknown  emotion  stood  in  the  eyes 
of  the  comtesse,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
kissed  the  American. 

Maria  felt  that  that  kiss  received  her  into  the  family 
d' Auteuil.  And  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  ?  Faugh ! 
It  was  cheap  at  the  price  ! 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  comtesse  entered  her  salon  that  evening  gowned 
richly  in  black  chiffon  and  dull  jet.  The  marquise  looked 
up  in  surprise. 

"  Why  have  you  dressed  so  elaborately,  Eug6nie  ? 
Do  you  go  out  ?" 

"  No,  maman  ;  1  am  only  dressing  as  becomes  the  sis 
ter  of  a  millionaire  !" 

The  marquise  gripped  the  arms  of  her  chair  until  the 
veins  in  her  hands  stood  out  like  whip-cord.  The  full 
degradation  of  polluting  the  blood  of  the  house  d'Au- 

Steuil  by  an  American  marriage  swept  in  a  cold  wave 
over  the  soul  of  the  woman  who  had  given  up  her  life 
to  an  empty  pride.  But  her  composure  was  admirable 
and  absolute. 

*  Ah,  you  told  her,  then  ?" 
"  1  told  her  !" 
"  And  she  said—  ?" 

"  She  said  nothing  !  Not  one  word !  She  only  gasped 
and  panted  like  one  of  the  goldfish  when  1  take  it  in  my 
hand.  And  her  mouth  turned  pale  and  her  ears  red, 
and  she  looked  more  ugly  by  far  than  I  ever  saw  her.  I 
could  almost  have  taken  back  the  words  when  I  saw  her." 
"  Ah,  no  !  It  means  much  to  us  that  she  brings  a 
sublime  fortune  like  that  into  the  family.  When  did 
you  tell  her  ?" 

"Just  before  we  entered  the  shop  of  Falize." 
"  Eugenie  !     You  have  not  allowed  him  to  go  on 
with  those  designs  ?" 

23 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  And  she  ordered  the  communion  set  for  me — as  a 
thank-offering,  I  think!" 

"  My  daughter  !  The  American  ordered  that  beau 
tiful  silver  communion  set  for  us  ?" 

"  No,  maman.     She  ordered  it  in  gold  1" 

"In  gold?" 

"  But  yes  !" 

"  And  the  price  ?" 

"  One  hundred  thousand  francs  !" 

"  One  hundred  thousand  francs  !"  murmured  the  mar 
quise.  "Just  the  sum  of  Raoul's  last  loan  from  the 
Jew  !  Ah,  thank  God  !  We  shall  not  be  obliged  to 
pay  his  debts  much  longer." 

The  butler  appeared  at  the  glass  doors  leading  from 
the  salon. 

"  Madame  the  marquise  and  madame  the  comtesse 
are  served  !"  he  announced. 

They  talked  amiably  upon  indifferent  subjects  until 
the  butler  left  the  room,  and  then  the  comtesse  said  : 

"  1  permitted  her  to  tell  me  her  news  quite  as  if  1  did 
not  already  know  of  it." 

"  You  mean  that  her  family  are  coming  over  ?" 

"  Yes.  Are  you  sure  we  have  not  been  precipitate, 
maman  ?  Her  ugliness  fairly  stops  the  heart-beats." 

"  My  dear  Eugenie  !  As  if  mere  beauty  made  any 
difference  when  the  possibility  of  selling  Vrianault 
stares  us  in  the  face  !  And  1  am  sure  we  have  not  been 
one  moment  too  soon.  She  has  no  position  here  now, 
of  course,  living  in  your  entresol  with  only  a  maid,  and 
with  no  one  knowing  the  exact  figure  of  her  father's 
wealth.  But  when  once  he  comes  over  and  sets  up  an 
establishment,  and  Sophie  de  Briancourt  and  B£b6  and 
Elize  de  Fleury  discover  an  heiress,  they  will  all  pro 
pose  for  her  hand.  They  are  all  decidedly  in  arrears, 
and  all  have  sons  to  marry.  No,  no  !  We  are  barely 
in  time,  that  is  all." 

24 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  I  suppose  you  are  right, "  murmured  the  comtesse. 
"  Come,  let  us  go  into  the  salon  for  the  coffee." 

"  We  have  dined  later  than  usual,"  said  the  marquise, 
glancing  at  the  gilt  and  porcelain  clock  on  the  mantel. 
"  Did  you  go  out  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  went  to  our  lawyer's,  and  got  the  duplicate 
copies  of  the  leases  of  your  hotel,  which  I  ordered  made 
out  last  week.  They  are  there  on  the  table." 

"  Ah,  you  wished  to  read  them  over,  I  suppose,"  said 
the  marquise,  carelessly. 

"  I  wished  to  be  sure  of  their  contents  and  to  have 
them  at  hand,  in  case  I  need  them  suddenly,"  said  the 
comtesse,  narrowing  her  eyes  at  her  mother  shrewdly. 

The  marquise  looked  up  uncomprehendingly,  but,  as 
Eugenie  did  not  enlighten  her,  she  said,  reverting  to 
their  former  topic  : 

"  It  is  quite  true  that  the  girl  is  a  fright,  but  Raoul 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  face  the  question  like  a  man. 
Where  is  his  letter  ?  It  amuses  me  to  hear  him  discuss 
his  future  bride.  Ah,  there  you  have  it.  Read  what  he 
says  about  that  odious  America." 

"  How  you  detest  America,  maman  !  It  is  quite  love 
ly  to  hear  you." 

"  I  know  nothing  of  it !"  cried  the  marquise,  spreading 
out  her  hands.  "  I  never  was  there,  thank  God.  Only 
I  have  heard  Sophie  de  Briancourt  talk.  She  went  to 
Chicago  !  Think  of  it  1  To  Chicago !  Where  are 
my  salts  ?" 

"  Raoul's  letter  is  from  Denver." 

"  And  where  is  Denver,  may  I  ask  ?"  said  the  mar 
quise,  sniffing  at  her  salts. 

"  It  is  far  in  the  west  of  America.  In  the  mountains, 
Raoul  says.  Stay,  let  me  show  it  you  on  the  map. 
When  I  received  Raoul's  letter,  I  got  out  the  atlas  that 
we  used  in  the  convent,  and  marked  it  by  a  cross  of  red 
ink.  Here  it  is  !  Denver  1" 

25 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  marquise  adjusted  her  lorgnon  and  followed  her 
daughter's  finger-tip  on  the  map. 

"  Ah,  and  what  may  be  the  name  of  those  mountains?" 

"  The  Rocky  Mountains.  Do  you  not  remember,  dear 
maman  ?  They  are  the  highest  in  the  world,  except — " 

"  American  things  are  always  the  highest  and  the 
deepest  and  the  richest  and  the  grandest — " 

"  And  the  newest,  maman.  Never  the  oldest ! "  laughed 
the  comtesse. 

"  True,  Eug6nie  !  You  have  a  pretty  wit.  Read 
me  Raoul's  letter.  But  first  give  me  a  drop  more  of 
fin  champagne.  There,  that  will  do.  A  drop  too 
much  is  quite  as  bad  as  a  drop  too  little.  Now  then, 
seat  yourself  comfortably,  and  then  to  the  letter." 

The  comtesse  crossed  her  fat,  short  feet  upon  a  velvet 
cushion,  and  drew  out  her  brother's  letter  : 

"  '  MY  DEAR  MAMAN,— This  is  to  be  a  long  letter,for 
I  have  discovered  all  that  I  came  to  learn.  But  first,  I 
must  inquire  about  your  health,  the  state  of  which  has 
alarmed  me,  since  hearing  of  how  slowly  our  dear  Du- 
chesse  de  Briancourt  is  recovering  from  her  terrible  ac 
cident.  It  reminds  me  that  one's  mother  needs  tenderer 
care,  for  each  year  that  passes  over  her  head  makes  an 
illness  a  more  serious  matter. 

'  Eug6nie  is  a  good  nurse,  and  I  am  sure  you  are 
each  receiving  excellent  care  from  the  other,  but,  dear 
maman,  pray  take  every  precaution  and  save  yourself 
in  every  way  that  is  possible.'  " 

"  It  is  nothing  !"  murmured  the  marquise,  sipping  her 
coffee  contentedly.  "  But  Raoul  is  such  a  charming 
boy  !" 

The  comtesse  smiled  and  continued  : 

*  '  I  am  nearly  out  of  money,  but  I  am  sure  you  will 

26 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

not  object  to  that  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  now  reached 
the  point  where  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  accede  to  your 
demands  and  marry  the  American.  1  will  confess  that 
1  never  meant  to  do  so  when  I  started  for  America, 
for,  if  you  will  remember,  1  did  not  promise  to  marry 
Mile.  Hollenden,  but  some  rich  American,  hoping  (1 
will  not  deny  it  !)  to  find  some  one  in  the  course  of  my 
travels  who  would  not  be  an  invitation  to  her  husband 
to  be  unfaithful  to  her  simply  by  permitting  his  gaze  to 
rest  upon  her !  If  I  never  had  seen  her,  thought  1,  it 
would  be  easier.  I  would  then  allow  maman  to  make 
all  the  arrangements,  and,  with  Eugenie  to  dictate  the 
settlements,  it  would  then  not  be  necessary  for  me  to 
hasten  my  journeyings,  for  a  few  days  of  bouquets  and 
state  calls  before  the  wedding  would  be  all  that  would 
be  necessary.  I  knew  that  no  nightmare  dream  of  her 
unattractiveness  could  conjure  up  the  reality  as  I  recall 
her  during  her  three  days'  visit  at  Vrianault.  Mon 
Dieu !  Sometimes,  when  I  have  had  too  much  wine, 
I  dream  that  she  has  kissed  me,  because  I  was  helpless ! 
"  '  Consider,  then,  how  1  am  keeping  my  word  to  you 
for  your  kindness  in  permitting  me  this  journey,  when 
I  say  that  I  will  marry  her.  And  now  let  me  tell  you 
why. 

'  You  will  remember  that  poor  Mores  had  interests 
near  here,  and  that  1  had  letters  to  several  of  his  friends. 
Through  their  courtesy  1  was  at  once  put  up  at  the  Den 
ver  Club,  which  is  my  first  experience  of  American  club 
life,  having  come  directly  through  from  New  York  to 
Denver,  where  1  heard  my  papa-in-law  made  his  first 
fortune.  This  Denver  club  I  like  very  much.  The 
Americans  all  seem  to  drink  for  the  effect,  and  thus  do 
not  know  how  to  drink,  according  to  French  standards, 
but  it  must  be  admitted  that  their  drinks  are  most  agree 
able  concoctions,  and  that  a  European  looks  with  envy 
upon  their  capacity  to  drink  so  many  of  them. 

27 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

'  On  the  train  coming  from  Chicago  I  found  my 
first  personal  clew  to  the  real  wealth  of  my  papa-in-law. 
Every  one  else  to  whom  1  had  broached  the  subject  de 
clared  him  to  be  a  Croesus,  too  rich  to  tell  of,  and  all  simi 
lar  exaggeration,  which  I  had  been  warned  in  Paris  not 
to  believe.  This  young  man,  whose  name  is  Brown, 
had  been  abroad  and  had  spent  some  little  time  in 
Paris,  where  he  became  acquainted  with  the  usual  class 
of  women  affected  by  young  Americans  who  go  to  Paris 
to  "see  life."  He  showed  me  a  bundle  of  letters  one  of 
the  creatures  had  written  him,  some  of  them  quite  old 
and  worn  with  re-reading,  and,  leaning  over  very  con 
fidentially,  he  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  woman  was 
"acocotte." 

'  Dear  maman  and  dear  Eugenie  !  I  beg  of  you  to 
laugh  aloud  for  me  the  laugh  1  was  obliged  to  smother 
at  that  naive  confession  !  It  seems  to  me  that  1  can  hear 
you  at  even  this  distance.  The  boy  was  a  printer,  it 
seems,  and  lives  in  Chicago.  But  to  me  he  is  the  most 
useful  creature  in  the  world,  and  we  have  been  insepa 
rable  for  a  week.  1  would  consider  him  an  ass  if  he  were 
not  more  of  a  cad.  1  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  him 
to  remain  in  Denver,  for  after  he  discovered  that  1  was 
ad' Auteuil,and  had  a  title  at  that,  I  could  not  escape  him. 
He  is  rather  clever,  in  his  way,  for  I  find  that  he  knows 
all  about  our  family,  and  therefore,  thanks  to  his  intro 
ductions,  I  am  very  much  the  rage  in  Denver,  and  am 
horribly  run  after  by  the  women,  one  or  two  of  whom  do 
not  bore  me.  But  more  of  this  later.  To  return  to  our 
mutton,  as  my  future  wife  might  most  properly  be 
called  ! 

' '  I  find  that  this  young  Brown's  father  is  a  detective, 
or  something  of  the  sort,  in  Chicago,  for  all  he  has  to  do 
to  discover  the  most  private  affairs  of  a  man,  from  his 
amours  to  his  wealth,  is  to  ask  his  father,  who  has  all 
this  disgusting  information  at  his  tongue's  end.'  " 

28 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Disgusting,  but  necessary/'  interrupted  the  mar 
quise.  "  How  excellently  Raoul  writes !  One  can 
quite  see  this  objectionable  pair." 

"  '  He  afterwards  sent  me — all  neatly  typewritten,  if 
you  please,  on  numbered  sheets  of  paper  ! — this  in 
formation.  M.  Hollenden's  wealth  is  estimated  con 
servatively  at  sixty  millions  of  dollars,  which  would  be 
three  hundred  millions  of  francs.  This  does  not  in 
clude  his  mines  at  Cripple  Creek,  one  of  which,  the 
"  Lonely  Mollie,"  is  now  the  sensation  of  the  day.  The 
newspapers  are  giving  columns  of  space  to  it,  and  ex 
perts  from  far  and  near  are  rushing  down  there,  but 
through  it  all  my  papa-in-law  remains  calmly  in  New 
York,  sending  his  instructions  by  cipher  telegrams. 

"  '  There  are  two  other  children  by  a  second  wife — my 
Maria  being  the  sole  product  by  his  first  wife,  a  common 
Danish  woman  whom  he  married  in  his  early  days  when 
he  was  only  a  miner  working  as  a  day-laborer  in  Nevada. 
He  sent  his  wife  to  school  after  their  marriage,  and  she 
learned  to  read  and  write  English. 

"  '  He  subsequently  lost,  or  thought  he  lost,  every 
thing  in  these  mines,  but  not  before  giving  his  wife  half 
of  his  stock  in  the  "  Lonely  Mollie,"  which  she  refused 
to  sell.  It  is  quite  possible,  therefore,  that  Maria  fell 
heir  to  this  fortune,  as  it  afterwards  proved  to  be.  When 
I  see  my  papa-in-law,  I  shall  make  sure  of  this. 

"  '  He  then  went  to  Michigan,  where  he  engaged  in  the 
lumber  trade,  and  amassed  a  small  fortune.  My  Maria 
was  therefore  educated  in  a  lumber  camp  in  Michigan. 
Think  of  it !  The  future  Marquise  d'Auteuil  !  But 
think  also  of  the  three  hundred  millions  ! 

"  '  Then  the  Dane  died,  and  my  Maria,  having  fought 
and  scratched  every  companion  she  ever  found  as  a 
child,  her  father  sent  her  to  Chicago.  But  her  history 
there  was  one  quarrel  after  another — all  the  result  of  the 

29 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

most  jealous  and  violent  temper  in  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  land  !  Think  of  your  poor  Raoul  with  such  a 
wild-cat  for  a  wife  !  But,  again,  think  of  the  three  hun 
dred  millions  ! 

"  '  She  was  finally  sent  abroad,  owing  to  a  fight  of  un 
usual  violence  over  her  father's  second  marriage — to  a 
lady,  this  time.  Then  began  twenty-two  years  of  Eu 
ropean  travel  for  my  Maria,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
little  vampire  fixed  her  fangs  in  dear  Eugenie's  throat. 
But  Eugenie  is  clever,  and  soon  turned  the  American's 
idolatry  to  account.  My  Maria  is  thirty-nine.  Imag 
ine  your  poor  Raoul,  who  loves  youth  and  the  plump 
white  roundness  of  youth,  with  a  stringy  wife  thirteen 
years  older  than  himself  !  It  is  horrible  ! 

"  '  The  second  wife  of  my  papa-in-law  is  also  dead, 
thank  God  !  which  only  leaves  her  two  children,  a  lad 
just  out  of  Yale,  and  a  daughter,  for  the  three  hundred 
millions  to  be  divided  among. 

"  '  But  now  to  the  reason  for  haste  in  the  matter. 
They  are  all  going  to  Paris  to  live.  They  are  to  start  in 
two  months  or  less.  I  shall  sail  on  the  same  ship  with 
them  and  thus  become  acquainted  with  papa.  So  pro 
pose  for  Maria's  hand  at  once,  for  there  are  twenty  men 
in  Paris  whose  purses  are  as  lean  as  ours,  and  who  might 
please  her  better.  Therefore,  lose  no  time,  but  settle 
everything  with  Maria  before  they  arrive.  If  her  sym 
pathies  are  engaged,  we  are  safe,  for  they  tell  me  her 
father  is  ridiculously  afraid  of  her,  and  her  will  is  law 
in  the  whole  family. 

'  It  would  surprise  and  disgust  you  to  see  how  the 
women  rule  the  men  here.  The  husband  and  father  is 
taken  less  account  of  than  any  other  member  of  the  fam 
ily.  Indeed,  the  American  woman  stands  in  far  less 
awe  of  her  husband  than  of  her  cook.  The  American 
woman  is  charming,  but  only  in  a  way.  She  is  cold, 
has  none  of  what  we  call  temperament,  and  her  vanity 

30 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

is  monstrous.  Her  manner  with  men  I  should  charac 
terize  as  impertinent.  Her  lack  of  warmth  renders  her 
as  safe  as  if  she  were  in  an  iron  cage  in  the  Zoo,  and 
from  her  security  she  acts  accordingly.  Her  eyes  in 
vite,  her  manner  encourages,  her  words  inflame — but  let 
a  man  beware  how  he  proceeds  with  her,  for  there  is  al 
ways  the  iron  cage  !  If  American  girls  carried  out  in 
f .  their  lives  what  their  consummate  coquetry  suggests, 
they  would  be  far  and  away  the  most  fascinating  women 
that  any  country  ever  produced.  As  it  is,  they  are  all 
intellect — that  is,  all  vanity  and  curiosity.  They  permit 
a  man  to  pay  their  cab-hire,  to  send  them  books,  flowers, 
even  gloves  or  more  expensive  presents  if  it  can  go  as  a 
wager ;  they  lunch  with  him,  walk  and  drive  alone  with 
him — in  short,  have  all  the  charms  and  many  of  the  vices 
of  those  of  the  little  world.  We  are  not  so  far  wrong,  we 
boulevardiers,  when  we  call  the  American  girl  "  une 
demi-vierge." 

"  '  So  far,  maman,  I  have  spent  the  most  of  my  time 
verifying  this  report  of  the  Chicago  detective,  and  three 
hundred  millions  of  francs  is  a  conservative  estimate- 
Since  the  dividing  up  of  the  other  two  enormous  fortunes 
in  New  York  several  years  ago,  and  upon  which  we  fixed 
our  hopes  in  vain,  M.  Hollenden  is  easily  the  richest 
man  in  the  States. 

'  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  presented  rather  a  gloomy 
view  of  the  affair  to  you,  my  poor  maman,  but  you  must 
not  let  your  sympathy  for  your  boy  overlook  the  fact 
that  all  our  troubles  will  be  at  an  end  with  this  fortune 
ours.  Nor  need  you  be  alarmed  that  my  Maria's  tem 
per  will  last  long  after  the  marriage.  There  are  ways 
of  managing  even  wild-cats,  if  the  male  will  be  stronger 
than  the  female,  and  Vrianault  has  thick  walls.  She 
shall  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  French  husband  ! 

'  For  another  thing,  she  shall  bear  me  children,  and 
the  name  need  not  die  out.  American  women  are  not 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

fond  of  children,  chiefly,  I  think,  because  they  lack  in 
the  essentials  of  temperament  and  feeling.  But,  as  I 
remember  it,  the  little  brown  beast  had  a  look  in  her 
eyes  which  made  me  think  that  her  European  training 
had  done  something  for  her  in  that  line,  or  she  may 
have  inherited  it  from  her  foreign  mother.  Everything 
of  that  sort  is  very  artificial  in  America.  Nothing  is 
natural  or  spontaneous.  It  is  considered  a  degradation 
to  feel  such  emotion.  But,  as  for  Maria,  I  remember 
her  way  of  narrowing  her  eyes  at  me  as  one  of  the 
boldest  and  most  suggestive  things  I  ever  have  en 
countered. 

"  '  It  is  not  her  temper  that  I  dread — no  !  It  is  the  little 
animal  herself.  Never 'shall  I  forget  the  first  time  I  saw 
her  at  Vrianault  !  Eugenie  had,  in  her  considerate 
way,  warned  me  that  she  was  ugly  —  "not  pretty," 
Eugenie  put  it.  Eugenie  is  always  so  kind.  But 
when  I  saw  her — a  little  beast  not  five  feet  tall,  with 
brown  claws  for  hands  (consider,  oh,  consider  her 
hands  when  compared  to  mine  !),  no  stays  on  her 
miserable,  shrunken  figure,  no  bust,  arms  the  size  of 
a  lamb's  leg,  a  brown,  stringy  neck  rising  out  of  a 
white  collar,  a  long  face,  prominent  teeth,  high  cheek 
bones,  skin  like  leather,  hollow,  colorless  eyes,  great 
holes  in  her  temples,  showing  age  and  illness,  bushy 
hair,  arranged  badly,  and  this  handful  of  bones  got  into 
a  tight  English  tailor-gown,  which  is  only  made  to  set 
off  the  figure  of  a  goddess — mon  Dieu !  maman,  I  would 
not  dare  be  married  in  the  Madeleine  for  fear  the  little 
monkey  should  be  frightened  and  run  up  one  of  the 
columns  ! 

"  '  Therefore  do  not  pity  me  too  much,  but  attend  well 
to  the  settlements  and  lose  no  time. 

"  '  Pray  do  not  forget  to  give  my  most  distinguished 
homages  to  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt,  also  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Fleury  and  Duchesse  de  Treves.  I  shall 

32 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

bring  them  each  a  set  of  polished  cow's  horns  from 
Chicago  as  a  souvenir  of  America. 

"  '  With  all  good  wishes  for  the  health  of  my  dear  little 
maman  and  dear  Eugenie,  I  am 

"  '  Your  son,  most  devotedly, 

'  RAOUL. 

"  '  P.  S. — Please  send  me  more  money  at  once,  care 
First  National  Bank,  Chicago,  U.  S.  A." 

"More  money!"  groaned  the  comtesse  —  "always 
more  money  with  Raoul." 

"  But  with  such  prospects,  dear  Eugenie  !  Surely 
you  can  get  more  from  M.  Silberman  ?" 

Eugenie  blushed. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  frowning. 

"  Ah,  what  a  delicious  letter  \"  cried  the  marquise. 
"  How  like  my  boy  to  be  so  light-hearted  in  such  a  di 
lemma  !  But  he  always  was  a  brave  lad,  and  faced 
trouble — even  danger — like  a  d'Auteuil  !" 

"  Which  do  you  call  this  American  marriage,  ma 
man  ?  Trouble  or  danger  ?" 

"  Both,"  said  the  marquise,  haughtily. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  just  half  after  ten  when  Townshend  seated 
himself  at  a  table  facing  the  door  at  Rector's.  He 
had  not  been  in  Chicago  for  four  years  except  to  dash 
through  in  a  hansom  to  catch  a  train,  yet  he  knew 
that  Rector's  was  the  place  to  go  after  the  theatre,  if 
one  wishes  to  see  people,  just  as  he  knew  every  other 
Bohemian  caf£  both  in  America  and  the  Continent, 
from  the  Caf6  de  Paris,  in  Paris,  to  Santi's  in  Cairo. 

It  was  too  early  for  the  regular  habitues,  but  every 
table  except  one  or  two  undesirable  ones  was  reserved 
for  the  knowing  ones  who  love  this  little  underground 
lobster  cellar,  where  you  can  get  the  best  shell-fish  in 
town,  and  where  your  neighbors  will  be  not  less  in 
teresting  than  your  crab  salad  or  your  Blue  Points. 

Townshend  got  himself  out  of  his  furred  coat  with  one 
movement  of  the  shoulders.  It  was  like  the  chuba  of  a 
Russian,  lined  with  sable,  with  a  collar  and  deep  cuffs  of 
Russian  beaver.  The  waiter  who  hung  it  up  had  in  some 
mysterious  way  communicated  its  richness  to  the  other 
waiters,  so  that  three  of  them  came  to  fill  his  glass  with 
ice-water  and  to  take  his  order.  He  knew  that  he  was 
early,  therefore  he  carefully  ordered  dishes  which  take 
a  long  time  to  prepare,  and  then,  lighting  his  cigar,  he 
leaned  back  and  waited. 

He  was  an  unusual  figure,  even  for  Rector's,  as 
he  lolled  in  his  corner  and  watched  the  glass  doors. 
The  March  wind  was  searching,  and  the  waiters  came 
and  adjusted  screens  around  the  tables  nearest  the  doors. 

34 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

One  was  between  him  and  the  next  table,  which  was 
laid  for  six,  with  the  chairs  leaning  their  foreheads  on 
the  cloth  to  show  that  it  was  engaged. 

Townshend  sighed  because  he  was  tired.  One  always 
tries  to  do  such  a  lot  in  one  day  in  Chicago.  His  brain 
was  more  tired  than  his  body,  which  is  often  the  case 
with  persons  who  are  caught  in  that  city's  maelstrom. 
He  had  just  come  from  his  ranch  in  Arizona,  where  his 
cattle,  although  better  cared  for  than  any  others  in  the 
State,  still  were  suffering  cruelly.  He  had  been  in  the 
saddle  sixteen  hours  a  day  for  three  weeks,  with  only 
occasional  enforced  rests,  yet  one  day  of  dashing  to  and 
fro  in  Chicago  had  tired  him  more  than  all  of  that. 

The  wind  and  sun  had  tanned  his  face  to  a  clean, 
even  brown,  from  which  his  gray  eyes  looked  with  a 
curious  contrast.  He  was  smooth-shaven,  with  an  ex 
cellent  nose  and  a  good  chin,  and  he  had  a  charming 
smile,  which  showed  both  rows  of  fine  white  teeth,  so 
white  as  to  make  his  face  brilliant  when  he  laughed. 
He  was  six  feet  one,  and  he  stood  as  straight  as  Tommy 
Atkins  on  parade,  with  his  thin  flanks  and  deep  chest 
and  flat  back  making  an  excellent  figure  for  any  man 
who  had  not  even  his  height  to  fall  back  on.  He  wore 
his  clothes  easily,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  would  be  as 
much  at  home  in  leather  breeches  and  a  flannel  shirt  as 
in  his  evening  clothes,  which  was  quite  true  of  him. 
Like  most  men  who  live  in  the  open  air,  he  had  ideals, 
and  high  ones,  of  women.  He  was  born  in  New  York, 
but  lived  in  Paris  and  Arizona,  and  spent  a  good  deal  of 
valuable  time  in  getting  from  one  living-place  to  the 
other  ;  but  both  seemed  to  foster,  without  satisfying, 
his  ideal  of  what  a  woman  should  be.  He  wanted  one  so 
high  and  fine  that  she  would  be  above  all  the  little  mean 
nesses  of  her  sex,  and  one  with  the  courage  to  live  up  to 
her  convictions  ;  and  of  course  he  had  never  found 
her. 

35 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  door  opened  now  and  then,  and  with  a  fearful 
draught  men  and  women  blew  in  and  hunted  up  their 
tables  and  sat  down  and  watched  the  door  for  others. 
The  next  time  it  opened,  a  very  tall  young  woman  and  a 
man,  half  a  head  shorter,  with  a  gentle,  girlish  face,  came 
in,  and  the  head  waiter  bounded  to  meet  them.  As  he 
led  the  way  to  the  table  on  the  other  side  of  Townshend's 
screen,  Townshend  saw  a  face  that  made  him  sit  up. 
The  way  her  hair  grew  about  her  temples  and  ears  was 
enough  to  make  her  lovely,  but  then  there  were  her  eyes 
— so  calm,  so  deep,  with  such  an  expression  of  courage  in 
them,  that  one  almost  forgot  the  perfectness  of  her  nose 
and  mouth — the  sort  of  nose  and  mouth  which  should 
always  go  with  beautiful  eyes,  and  so  seldom  does — ex 
cept  that  one  could  never  forget  any  part  of  a  face  which 
drew  the  heart  almost  out  of  the  breast  as  Rose  Hollen- 
den's  did. 

Yet  they  were  almost  quarrelling  as  they  sat  down. 
The  man  had  evidently  been  complaining  of  her. 

"  Everybody  thought  you  were  a  prude,"  he  said. 

"  Because  I  got  up  and  left  the  theatre  ?  Perhaps  no 
one  saw  us.  It  left  four  others  in  the  box." 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that  people  always  watch  you 
and  criticise  you  unfavorably — " 

"No  one  does  that  as  much  as  you  do,  Ridley,"  said 
the  girl's  voice.  "  1  didn't  like  the  play.  I  hate  things 
like  that — it  was  vulgar  and  coarse,  and  1  wanted  a  walk 
in  the  open  air.  You  needn't  have  come  with  me  if  you 
hadn't  wished  to.  One  of  the  others — " 

"  But  I  always  go  where  you  go  !" 

"  Dear  old  Ridley  !  So  you  do  !  Why  is  it,  I  won 
der,  when  you  never  wholly  approve  of  me,  unless  I  am 
at  a  pink  tea  with  your  mamma  !  I  wonder  that  you 
are  in  love  with  me.  It  is  so  evidently  against  your 
will." 

"  And  I  wonder  that  you  are  in  love  with  me  !'' 

36 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I'm  not  !"  came  the  girl's  voice,  very  promptly.  "  I 
have  never  said  any  more  than  that  I  loved  you.  There 
is  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  that  and  being 
in  love.  I've  often  thought  that  falling  in  love,  for  me, 
would  be  very  much  like  the  dive  that  1  make  from  the 
trapeze  in  the  natatorium.  If  I  were  in  love  with  you, 
I  would  be  glad  to  die  for  you.  But  I'd  think  a  long 
time  before  I'd  die  for  you,  dear — not  that  I  don't  love 
you,  for  I  do.  You're  much  more  ladylike  than  I  am. 
But  you  wouldn't  die  for  me,  either,  so  there's  no  harm 
done.  I  believe  in  your  love,  however.  I  believe  that 
you  would  willingly  get  your  feet  wet  for  me." 

"  Why  did  you  ever  promise  to  marry  me  ?"  asked  the 
man.  "  I've  never  understood  it." 

"  Neither  have  I,  in  a  way.  I  promised  because  you 
are  nice  and  don't  grate  on  me,  and  you  are  polite,  and 
I  like  your  clothes.  Oh,  Ridley,  forgive  me  !  I'll  tell 
you  why  !  It's  because  1  am  so  lonely — so  deadly, 
miserably  alone  in  the  world  !  I  have  no  mother  ;  I 
hardly  ever  see  my  father,  except  at  dinners.  I've  never 
had  a  home.  I've  been  brought  up  in  other  people's 
houses.  I've  seen  girls  unappreciative  of  the  love  I 
would  have  sold  my  soul  for ;  and  when  I  saw  your 
home  and  your  mother  and  father,  and  they  were  so  good 
to  me,  and  you  loved  me,  of  course  I  said  I'd  marry  you  ! 
Who  wouldn't  ?  My  only  regret  is  that  it  isn't  the  big 
love,  the  great  love  I've  always  hungered  to  bestow  and 
to  have.  I  know  that  I  am  young  yet,  and  I'm  only 
half  awake,  and  that  I  am  capable  of  a  love  much  deeper 
than  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  give  you.  I  feel  that  we 
are  not  suited  to  each  other.  You  want  me  to  change 
in  the  very  things  I  can't  change  without  killing  myself. 
It's  just  as  if  you  wanted  my  eyes  to  be  black.  I'd  love 
to  make  them  black  to  please  you,  but  I  can't.  Neither 
can  I  be  like  the  other  girls  you  know.  Nor  can  I  help 
it  that  people  always  look  at  me  and  talk  about  me. 

37 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

That  sort  of  thing  nearly  kills  you ;  you  are  con 
ventionality  personified,  and  1  am  constantly  trans 
gressing." 

"  But  you  do  such  outrageous  things,  Rose  !" 

"  I  know  I  do — from  your  point  of  view  ;  but  do  you 
know  what  I'm  afraid  of  ?  I'm  afraid  that  some  day, 
after  I  am  safely  married  to  you,  and  you  are  nagging 
my  life  out,  that  I  shall  meet  the  man,  for  I  know  he  ex 
ists  somewhere,  who  will  think  the  very  sins  for  which 
you  lecture  me,  virtues  ;  who  will  accept  me  wholly, 
imperfections  and  all  ;  who  will  allow  me  to  be  myself, 
and  find  that  self  wholly  good  ;  who  will  foster  the 
very  side  of  me  that  you  are  trying  to  crush  ;  who 
will  think  that  when  I  do  the  thing,  it  becomes  fine  and 
good,  because  he  knows  and  believes  in  the  real  me, 
and  who  will  never  consider  my  most  generous  actions 
'bad  form'!" 

"  What  would  you  do  if  you  did  find  him  ?  Run  away 
with  him?" 

"  No  ;  there  would  be  nothing  of  me  left  for  him  to 
run  away  with.  The  mere  knowing  that  I  had  found 
him  too  late — that  I  had  wasted  my  life  instead  of  liv 
ing  it — would  kill  me.  Life  means  so  much  to  me. 
Don't  find  fault  with  me  so  much.  I  warn  you,  1  don't 
love  you  enough  to  stand  it  !" 

"  But  how  can  I  approve  of  such  a  thing  as  they  say 
you  did  at  the  Camerons'  ball  ?" 

"  Why,  what  did  1  do  ?     Who  says  I  did  anything  ?" 

"  Half  a  dozen  men  saw  it,  and  congratulated  me  on 
it — congratulated  me  on  my  mortification  !" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  You  know  what  I  mean  !  No  girl  could  do  such  a 
dreadful  thing  as  to  go  to  the  rescue  of  an  intoxicated 
man  in  public,  and  not  have  the  memory  of  it  flush  her 
face  with  shame  whenever  she  thought  of  it." 

"  You  don't  understand,  Ridley.  You  were  up- 

38 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

stairs  in  the  smoking-room,  and  you  did  not  see.  1 
can't  regret  what  I  did,  even  though  you  disapprove, 
for  it  was  an  act  of  kindness  to  a  weak  and  unfortunate 
fellow-being,  and  1  would  blush  to-day  if  I  had  not  done 
it." 

"  He  was  simply  drunk,  and  you  offered  to  take  him 
home — you,  in  your  white  satin  ball-gown  !  It  was  dis 
gusting  !  " 

"  Stop  !  Don't  you  dare  say  anything  I  do  is  dis 
gusting.  I  admit  that  I  was  placed  in  a  trying  position, 
but  he  was  not  simply  drunk — although  if  he  had  been, 
I  would  have  done  the  same  !  But  remember  how  ill 
he  has  been.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  dared  to  go 
out,  and  the  doctors  warned  him  that  they  would  not 
answer  for  his  life  if  he  drank  a  drop.  It  is  his  heart, 
you  know,  and  he  ought  never  to  be  excited.  He  was 
all  right  half  an  hour  before,  for  1  sat  a  dance  out  with 
him.  But  when  he  left  me  I  saw  him  go  to  the  cham 
pagne,  and  in  a  short  time  I  saw  him,  quite  overcome, 
sitting  in  the  conservatory  with  three  or  four  of  his 
friends  trying  to  persuade  him  to  go  home.  You  know 
he  only  lives  three  doors  away  from  the  Camerons.  He 
was  obstinate  and  refused.  They  tried  to  take  him 
anyway,  and  he  raised  his  voice  and  grew  so  excited 
that  they  were  afraid  of  his  heart  and  stood  by  quite 
helplessly.  Well,  then  I  saw  that  he  knew  me,  and  I 
went  up  to  him.  He  tried  to  rise  when  I  approached,  but 
he  staggered  and  I  caught  his  arm  and  said,  '  Stuart, 
won't  you  come  with  me  ?'  And  he  said,  *  Yes. '  Then 
I  said, '  You  are  not  well,  and  you  oughtn't  to  be  out  so 
late.  I  am  going  home  and  I'll  walk  with  you  to  your 
door,  if  you'll  come. '  He  said  he  would,  and  I  took  his 
arm  and  we  went  down  to  the  door.  Mr.  Laurence  got 
his  coat  and  hat  and  I  sent  my  maid  for  my  wrap,  when 
suddenly  he  seemed  to  understand,  and  he  said,  '  You 
are  not  ready  to  go  home.  I'm  taking  you  away  from 

39 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

your  dance.  You  are  just  doing  this  to  get  me  home. 
Ill  go.  I'll  go  with  Laurence.  You  stay  and  dance/ 
And  so  he  went.  That  was  all.  It  wasn't  very  much, 
was  it  ?" 

"  It  was  perfectly  shocking.  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
You  offering  to  take  a  drunken  man  home  !" 

"  Ridley,  he  was  my  brother's  room-mate  at  Prince 
ton,  and  he  is  only  a  young  fellow  !  Surely  you  wouldn't 
have  had  me  do  otherwise?  I  knew  that  he  would  go 
with  me — he  used  to  be  rather  fond  of  me — and  his 
sister  was  liable  to  come  down  at  any  moment  and  see 
him.  1  was  anxious  to  spare  her  pain,  too." 

"  Why,  I  thought  his  sister  was  the  one  who  was  so 
rude  to  you  at  the  Horse  Show  ?" 

"  She  is ;  but  you  don't  suppose  I  want  any  revenge,  do 
you  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  I  certainly  wouldn't  go  out  of  my  way  to 
do  her  a  kindness,  if  I  were  you — especially  by  an  ac 
tion  that  no  other  nice  girl  could  bring  herself  to  do." 

"  You  are  unreasonable,  and  there  is  no  use  in  dis 
cussing  a  thing  with  you,  or  even  explaining  it.  The 
other  men,  his  friends,  didn't  disapprove." 

"  No,  that's  part  of  the  mortification  of  it  !  1  hate  to 
find  an  act  of  yours  approved  so  enthusiastically  by 
such  men." 

"  They  are  very  nice  men,  I  think  !"  laughed  the 
girl.  "  Come,  Ridley,  you  have  scolded  me  quite  enough 
for  one  night.  Order  the  supper,  for  the  others  may 
come  in  at  any  moment." 

Townshend's  broiled  lobster  was  stone  cold,  yet  he 
let  it  lie  before  him  untasted,  while  he  listened  to  this 
conversation.  They  were  conscious  that  possibly  other 
people  could  hear,  for  it  was  Saturday  night,  and  Sat 
urday  night  at  Rector's  means  that  the  tables  almost 
touch  each  other. 

Saturday  night  at  Rector's  in  Chicago !  There  is  no 

40 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

other  spot  like  it  in  the  whole  world.  Men  with  their 
wives ;  well-chaperoned  girls,  fresh  from  a  stage  box  ; 
the  very  actors  they  have  been  laughing  and  weeping 
over ;  pretty  women  whom  nobody  knows  ;  editors  ;  so 
ciety  reporters  ;  loud-voiced  Jews  at  long  tables,  with 
their  whole  families — frowned  at  by  all  the  others,  but 
secure  in  the  knowledge,  as  all  Jews  are,  of  the  place 
to  be  and  the  place  to  eat ;  young  men  who  never  pay 
dinner  calls  nor  return  any  woman's  hospitality — social 
leeches,  tolerated  because  one  must  have  dancing  men ; 
quiet  observers,  who  from  a  corner  saw  everything  and 
said  nothing  ;  women  whose  clothes  were  distinctly  to 
be  looked  at,  and  women  who  never  knew  when  their 
hats  were  crooked — all  these,  and  more,  at  Rector's  on 
Saturday  night !  Townshend  loved  it,  but  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  wondered  how  long  it  would  be  be 
fore  the  proprietor,  inflated  by  its  popularity,  would 
spoil  things  by  raising  it  to  the  level  of  the  surface  of 
the  earth. 

The  voices  at  the  table  on  the  other  side  of  the  screen 
ceased  temporarily.  Townshend  heard  the  girl  smother 
a  yawn. 

Then  the  other  four  of  their  party  came  in,  and  Town 
shend  recognized  the  Jasper  Franklins,  who  pounced 
upon  him  with  delight  and  made  him  leave  his  cold 
lobster  and  join  them.  He  had  no  opportunity  to  speak 
with  Miss  Hollenden,  except  casually,  for  their  table 
was  the  centre  of  attraction.  All  the  men  who  wan 
dered  in  and  looked  about,  from  table  to  table,  to  see 
who  was  there,  stood,  coats  over  their  arms,  to  talk  to 
the  Franklins  and  to  look  at  Rose  Hollenden.  The 
waiters  could  scarcely  serve  the  tables  beyond.  Town 
shend  was  amazed  at  the  unstudied  frankness  of  the 
girl's  manner.  She  seemed  as  unconscious  of  their 
admiration  as  of  her  own  beauty. 

Everybody  and  his  favorite  actor  were  there,  and 

41 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

there  was  much  laughing  and  smoking,  and  talking  and 
eating,  but  finally  everybody  left  except  the  seven  at 
this  table,  and  it  had  got  to  be  one  o'clock. 

Townshend  and  Rose  Hollenden  and  her  fiance  were 
the  last  to  leave.  The  others  went  out  five  minutes 
before.  When  they  went  up  the  flight  of  steps  and 
reached  the  street,  they  found  a  storm  of  sleet  raging 
and  their  carriage  not  there.  Not  one  was  to  be  seen, 
except  those  which  whirled  by  with  a  fare.  Townshend 
dashed  up  the  street  to  hunt  one.  Presently,  however,  a 
brougham  drove  up  and  stopped  in  front  of  Rector's,  and 
a  little  woman,  exquisitely  dressed,  lurched  out,  and 
Ridley  sprang  to  help  her.  She  laughed  and  clung  to 
him,  swaying  back  and  forth.  Rose  walked  up  with 
an  apprehensive  manner,  as  if  she  feared  what  he 
would  do. 

"  Is  thish  Rector's  ?"  asked  the  woman. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  lemme  go.  Thish  is  where  he  shaid  to  meet 
him." 

"  But  it  is  too  late,"  said  Rose.  "  They  are  closing  up. 
They  won't  let  you  in." 

"  Don't  talk  to  her,  Rose.     Go  inside  and  wait." 

"  Yes,  go  away  and  don't  speak  to  me  !"  said  the  little 
woman,  peering  up  into  Rose's  eyes. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,"  said  the  girl,  taking  her  hand. 
"  Where  are  your  gloves  ?" 

"  Losht  'em,"  said  the  little  woman. 

"  Well,  where  do  you  want  to  go  ?" 

"  Rose,  1  insist  that  you  do  not  enter  into  conversation 
with  this  creature,"  said  her  lover. 

"  And  1  insist  that  I  shall  find  out  what  the  poor  little 
thing  intends  to  do  on  this  freezing  night  !  Where  is 
your  money,  dear  ?" 

The  little  woman  blinked  her  eyes  feebly,  and  began 
to  hunt  for  her  purse. 

42 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Dunno  !  Guessh  it's  lost.  Had  some  when  I  start 
ed.  Lost  it." 

"  Well,  where  shall  this  man  drive  you  ?  Where  do 
you  live  ?" 

"  Don't  know." 

"Ask  the  driver  if  he  knows,  Ridley." 

*  I  will  not.  This  is  no  affair  of  mine.  Here  comes 
Mr.  Townshend,  and  I  won't  have  him  see  you  talking 
to  her.  I  shall  put  her  back  in  her  carriage,  and  let  her 
go  wherever  he  takes  her.  You  can't  hurt  a  woman  of 
this  sort." 

"  Oh,  Ridley,  don't  1  She  is  so  very  little  and  so 
pretty  !  She  is  not  fit  to  be  left  alone.  See,  she  is  so 
helpless.  Don't  do  that.  Please  take  her  home,  and 
let  Mr.  Townshend  go  with  me." 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Gould,  indignantly,  putting  the  lit 
tle  woman  bodily  into  the  brougham. 

Rose  hesitated  a  moment,  then  she  put  out  her  hand. 

"  Here  is  your  ring,  Ridley,  for  I  know  this  is  the  end. 
I  am  going  with  her. — Drive  away  instantly,  before  that 
gentleman  comes,"  she  said  to  the  coachman.  "I'll  give 
you  your  instructions  in  a  few  minutes,"  and  Rose 
stepped  into  the  carriage  and  drew  the  girl's  head  over 
on  her  shoulder. 

When  Townshend  approached,  Ridley  Gould  was 
staring  at  the  ring  in  his  hand,  and  the  carriage  was 
disappearing  down  the  street. 

"  A  cab  will  be  here  in  a  moment,"  he  called  out.  "  Has 
Miss  Hollenden  gone  inside?" 

"No,"  said  Gould,  furiously;  "she  has  driven  off 
alone,  God  knows  where,  with  a  drunken  woman  of  the 
town,  to  house  her  for  the  night,  and  she  gave  me 
this  !" 

"  Was  she  a  common  woman  ?"  asked  Townshend, 
grasping  Gould's  arm. 

"  No  ;  she  was  only  a  little  girl,  very  pretty  and  quite 

43 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

helpless.  Miss  Hollenden  can  manage  her,  but  what  a 
thing  to  do  !  What  an  awful  thing  to  do  I" 

"  Here  is  the  cab.  Will  you  come  ?  I'm  going  after 
them  !" 

"  No  !"  cried  the  young  man,  angrily. 

"Follow  that  carriage  !"  cried  Townshend,  slamming 
the  doors. 

In  a  moment  Gould  regretted  his  refusal.  He  ran  up 
the  street,  shouting  for  a  cab.  When  he  found  one,  the 
other  two  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  thought  a  mo 
ment  and  remembered  that  Rose  had  just  given  a  large 
sum  to  the  Young  Women's  Benevolent  Association. 
He  gave  the  driver  that  address,  and  the  cab  dashed 
away  through  the  sleet  and  slush. 

Townshend's  cab  soon  caught  up  with  the  brougham. 
It  stopped  a  moment  as  it  turned  north  on  Michigan 
Avenue,  and  Townshend  heard  Rose's  voice  say,  "  Tow 
er  Place." 

The  sleet  dashed  in  his  face  and  froze  on  the  fur  of  his 
collar  and  put  out  his  cigar,  yet  he  never  thought  of 
having  the  glass  down,  but  sat  straining  his  eyes  to  see 
the  brougham,  and  thinking  with  grim  satisfaction  of 
the  ring  Rose  had  given  back  to  Ridley  Gould  before 
she  had  dared  to  shock  his  world  in  this  grievous  man 
ner.  He  wondered,  half  fearfully,  how  she  would  come 
out  of  this.  Would  she  weaken,  or  would  she  face  it  to 
the  end  ?  What  was  happening  inside  that  little  brough 
am,  where  such  a  drama  was  being  enacted  ?  At  any 
rate,  he  set  his  teeth,  and  knew  that  no  harm  could  come 
to  her  with  himself  so  close  at  hand. 

He  stopped  his  cab  at  the  corner  of  Tower  Place  and 
got  out.  Keeping  in  the  shadow,  he  saw  Rose  leave 
the  brougham  at  the  door  of  No.  37.  A  light  came  faint 
ly  from  the  windows  of  the  first  apartment.  Rose  looked 
in  and  saw  the  frills  of  a  woman's  petticoat  and  a  wom 
an's  slippered  feet  on  the  fender  of  the  inner  room.  She 

44 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

tapped  softly  on  the  window-pane,  and  the  furious  bark 
ing  of  a  pet  dog  answered  her.  Then  the  woman  came 
to  the  window  and  looked  out  with  startled  eyes.  At 
the  sound  of  Rose's  voice  she  raised  the  window,  and 
Rose  said  : 

"  Is  Oscar  at  home  ?" 

"  No.     He  will  not  come  until  Thursday." 

"  Then  open  the  door,  and  don't  waken  the  maids.  1 
have  a  poor  little  creature  in  the  carriage  who  is  too  far 
gone  to  be  sent  home  alone.  She  isn't  of  the  choicest, 
Marion,  and  I  had  to  give  Ridley  his  ring  before  1  dared 
to  come  with  her ;  but  I've  brought  her  here  for  the  night. 
Was  I  wrong  ?" 

"  Wrong  ?  Just  wait  until  I  can  open  the  door  1 
Hurry  and  bring  her  in.  It  is  freezing  cold." 

Rose  ran  down  and  tried  to  lift  the  poor  girl,  but, 
small  as  she  was,  she  was  too  heavy  and  too  awkward 
ly  placed  to  be  stirred. 

The  coachman  sprang  down  from  the  box. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  take  her  in,  miss  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  if  I  could  only  manage  it." 

*  Take  her  into  the  house,  miss,  for  the  night  ?" 

"  Of  course." 

He  touched  his  cap,  and,  reaching  in,  he  lifted  the  girl 
in  his  arms,  carried  her  in  and  laid  her  on  the  couch. 
Marion  began  to  undress  her,  while  Rose  ran  back  to  pay 
the  man.  She  took  out  her  purse,  but  he  waved  her  off. 

"  Do  you  think  that  English  George  would  touch  a 
penny  of  your  money  for  this  night's  work,  miss  ?  No, 
miss,  and,  what's  more,  you're  welcome  to  the  use  of  this 
cab  whenever  you've  anything  of  the  kind  on  hand. 
I've  seen  you  before,  if  you'll  excuse  me  for  saying  so. 
I  used  to  be  your  aunt's  coachman  when  you  was  a 
little  thing.  I'll  come  around  in  the  morning  and  take 
her  home  for  you.  You'll  not  be  wanting  to  use  your 
own  carriage  for  work  of  this  kind.  Good-night,  miss." 

45 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

As  the  door  closed,  Townshend  signalled  him  and 
sprang  upon  the  box  beside  him. 

"  Best  go  inside,  sir.     It's  a  bad  night." 

"  No,"  said  Townshend,  "  I  like  this.  Stop  at  the 
corner  and  let  me  settle  with  my  cab.  Then  we  will 
fortify  ourselves  with  something  hot,  before  we  drive 
back." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  You  must  be  used  to  rough  weath 
er,  if  this  seems  like  spring  to  you." 

"Arizona,"  said  Townshend. 

"  Just  from  Arizona  !  My  mate,  Jim  Bobeen,  is  out 
there  on  a  big  ranch.  And  a  better  place  he  finds  it  than 
what  he'd  come  to  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  master." 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  never  done  it,  but  they  accused  him  of 
horse  stealin'.  And  it  seems  they  don't  stop  to  ask 
questions  at  a  time  like  that.  A  party  was  after  him 
with  a  rope  in  their  hands,  when  up  rode  a  man  on  a 
fresh  horse,  and  Jim  panted  out  his  story,  and  blest  if  the 
man  didn't  exchange  horses  with  him  and  tell  Jim  to 
ride  on  to  his  ranch  !  Well,  of  course,  when  the  lynchin' 
party  came  up,  they  found  it  was  the  owner  of  the  biggest 
ranch  in  the  State  they'd  been  chasin',  and  they  looked 
that  silly  you'd  'a'  thought  they  were  all  girls.  Well, 
after  that  you  couldn't  get  Jim  away  from  Town- 
shend's  ranch  with  a  crowbar.  He  really  never  stole  the 
horse.  But  they  were  goin'  to  make  an  example  of  him, 
because  somebody  else  had  been  stealin'  horses  !  Rum 
place,  Arizona  1" 

"  Rum  place,  indeed,"  said  Townshend.  "  Rum  world, 
all  through." 

"  Right  !  This  very  night  I've  'ad  an  experience  not 
often  to  be  found  now,  /  can  tell  you." 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes,  sir  !  You'll  never  again  catch  English  George 
a-sayin'  that  all  women  are  down  on  the  fallen.  No,  sir  ! 

46 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Did  you  ever  'ear  of  the  '  Lonely  Mollie '  mine  while  you 
were  in  Arizona,  sir  ?  Well,  the  man  as  owns  it  used  to 
live  in  Chicago.  Right  'ere,  sir.  I've  'ad  'im  in  my  cab 
many  a  time.  But  all  'is  money  ain't  a  patch  on  'is 
daughter,  neither  for  looks  nor  sperrits. 

"  She's  'ere  now,  visitin'  her  aunt  in  a  fine  'ouse  over- 
lookin'  Tower  Place,  but  a  hawful  place  for  a  young 
leddy  with  sperrits,  for  the  aunt  is  hall  for  missionaries, 
sir.  She  must  'ave  put  flannels  on  a  hawful  number  of 
naked  savages,  for  she  spends  her  life  beggin'  for  'em 
and  goin'  to  prayer-meetin's  to  pray  for  more  red  flannel 
for  the  tropics.  I  used  to  be  'er  coachman,  so  I  know. 
Poor  Miss  Rose  stays  out  at  Fort  Sheridan  all  she  can — 
she  comes  of  army  people — but  she  'as  to  show  up  for 
prayers  now  and  then,  or  'er  aunt  would  be  prayin'  aloud 
for  'er  in  the  middle  of  the  church.  I  saw  Miss  Rose 
last  Sunday  mornin'.  Her  aunt  was  ill  in  bed,  and  she 
sent  the  young  leddy  off  to  church.  But  instead  of 
goin',  she  orders  her  'orse  and  takes  her  groom  and  'er 
dog  Peter,  a  fine  German  bloodhound,  and  goes  for  a 
canter.  'Ave  you  ever  seen  'er  on  a  'orse  ?  I  wish  you 
may  some  time,  then.  She's  a  rare  one  for  looks,  on  or 
off.  But  on  this  partikaler  Sunday  I  was  waterin'  my 
'orse  at  a  fountain  in  Lincoln  Park,  when  up  runs  a  little 
black  kitten,  chased  by  a  French  poodle.  She  was  a 
lively  little  bunch  of  fur,  for  she  led  that  poodle  a  merry 
chase.  Everybody  was  lookin'  on  and  laughin',  when 
Miss  Rose  spied  her.  She  jerked  'er  'orse's  'ead  up  and 
said  something  to  'er  dog,  and  away  went  the  big  creat 
ure  after  the  poodle,  and  the  young  leddy  after  them 
both.  My  two  fares,  who  had  been  on  a  bit  of  a  bat 
the  night  before,  and  who  couldn't  keep  anything  down 
unless  it  had  burrs  on  it,  leaned  out  and  told  me  to  follow. 
The  bloodhound  nipped  the  poodle  just  as  'e  'ad  his  paw 
on  the  kitten.  The  poodle  yelped  and  limped  away,  and 
the  kitten  rolled  over  as  if  dead.  Then  the  groom  jumped 

47 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

down  to  fetch  the  kitten  to  the  young  leddy,  but  she  said 
no,  and  told  the  dog  to  fetch  it.  You'd  'a'  died,  sir,  to 
see  that  great  dog  pick  the  kitten  up  as  tender  as  a 
mother  and  stand  up  with  'is  paws  on  the  'orse's  neck 
and  lay  the  kitten  in  Miss  Rose's  lap.  The  crowd 
cheered,  they  couldn't  'elp  theirselves,  and  the  young 
leddy's  cheeks  got  red,  and  she  rode  off.  The  groom 
took  something  out  of  'er  'and  and  snapped  it  on  the 
dog's  collar,  and  away  'e  went,  'olding  'is  'ead  as  'igh  as 
a  king." 

"  I  hope  her  aunt  didn't  catch  her,"  said  Townshend. 

*  I  'ope  so,  too,  for  she's  not  like  other  young  leddies. 
This  very  night  she's  done  a  thing  that  if  people  knew 
all  the  women  would  be  'oldin'  their  skirts  away  from 
'er,  and  all  the  men  would  be  hadmirin'  'er  pluck.     She 
found  some  fine  gentleman's  sweetheart  too  drunk  to 
know  where  she  lived,  and  she  took  'er  to  a  friend's  'ouse 
for  the  night.     Took  'er  right  in,  and  I'll  lay  ten  to  one 
they're  puttin'  'er  in  the  best  bed  and  treatin'  'er  like 
Christians.     Miss  Rose's  young  gentleman  was  rare 
angry  with  'er,  but  she  took  no  borders  from  Jim.     She 
got  into  this  'ere  carriage  and  away  we  went.     You 
was  followin'  us,  sir.     I  saw  you." 

*  Yes,  1  followed." 

"  You  didn't  know  English  George  was  hon  the  box, 
did  you,  sir  ?" 

Townshend  shook  his  head. 

"  Ha !  The  young  leddy  was  as  safe  with  me  as  she'd 
'a'  been  with  'er  nurse.  She's  a  rare  one.  'Ere  we  har' 
at  your  club.  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  George,"  said  Townshend,  turning  back.  "  If  ever 
you  need  money,  or  a  friend,  will  you  write  to  your  mate 
Jim  to  tell  his  master  that  English  George  is  in  trouble  ?" 

"  Ah  !  you  know  Mr.  Townshend,  sir  ?" 
/'Yes,  I  know  him." 

"He's  a  fine  man,  sir." 

48 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I've  known  better.     And  I've  seen  worse." 

"  Would  you  mind  tellin'  me,  sir,  can  he  shoot  as  well 
as  they  say  ?" 

"  How  well  do  they  say  he  can  shoot  ?" 

"  My  mate  Jim  says  'e  'as  seen  'im  shoot  from  the  back 
of  a  runnin'  'orse  better  than  most  men  can  shoot  stand- 
in'  still.  'E  says  the  master  can  plug  a  shillin'  at  a 
mile,  and  I  believe  Jim  thinks  'e  could  hit  a  dollar  in 
the  next  State.  'E's  considered  the  best  shot  in  Ari 
zona,  sir." 

Townshend  laughed. 

"  Jim  was  lying  to  you, ".he  said. 

"  'Ave  you  ever  seen  Mr.  Townshend  shoot,  sir  ?" 

"  Often,  and  I've  seen  him  miss." 

*  'Ave  you  now  !   Jim  says  he  never  misses.     Perhaps 
you  are  a  shot  yourself,  sir  ?" 

*  Perhaps." 

"And  would  Mr.  Townshend  say  no  more  for  your 
shootin'  than  you  will  say  for  his  ?" 

"  I  think  he  would  say  about  the  same  thing,"  said 
Townshend. 

English  George  touched  his  hat  and  climbed  back  on 
the  box.  As  he  gathered  up  the  lines,  he  said,  in  a  tone 
of  respectful  resentment. 

"  Fve  never  known  Jim  Bobeen  to  lie,  sir,  and  I  don't 
believe  'e'd  begin  now  about  the  master's  shootin'  !" 

Townshend  laughed. 

"  Don't  be  offended,  George.  I  know  Townshend  well. 
It's  true,  he  can  shoot." 

"  Friends  should  stick  by  each  other,  sir,  beggin'  your 
pardon,  'specially  be'ind  their  friends'  backs." 

"  I  know  they  should.  I'll  apologize  to  Townshend  the 
first  time  I  see  him,  for  running  down  his  shooting.  But 
really,  George,  he  can't  shoot  any  better  than  I  can." 

English  George  gave  Townshend  a  look  of  mingled 
contempt  and  disgust.  It  said  plainly,  *  What  boasting  ! " 
D  49 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Then  you  must  be  a  rare  shot,  sir  !"  was  all  he  per 
mitted  himself  to  say. 

"  Good-night,  George.     Don't  forget  what  I  said  !" 
"  Thank  you,  sir.     I'll  remember.     Good-night,  sir." 

Inside  the  apartment  in  Tower  Place,  Rose  and  Mrs. 
Gregory  were  undressing  the  little  creature  and  getting 
her  to  bed. 

"  How  pretty  she  is  !  And  how  dainty,  even  in  this 
condition.  What  round,  babyish  arms,  and  what  a 
skin  !"  cried  Rose. 

*  We  will  put  her  in  my  bed,  and  I  will  take  Oscar's 
room." 

"  Why  ?    Oscar's  room  is  nearer." 

"I  have  a  fancy  to  see  her  in  my  bed,"  answered 
Marion. 

Rose  made  no  answer. 

"  And  I  wish  to  carry  her  nryself.     She  is  not  heavy." 

"  You  might  let  me  help,"  said  Rose. 

"  No,  I  want  to  see  if  I  can." 

There  were  two  little  brass  beds  standing  side  by  side 
in  Rose's  room,  and  just  as  she  was  turning  out  the 
light  her  friend  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  May  I  sleep  in  one  of  these  beds  ?"  she  whispered. 
"  I  can't  sleep  in  Oscar's  bed  to-night." 

"  Why,  certainly  you  may.     I  want  to  talk  anyway." 

*  We  shall  be  obliged  to  get  up  to  go  to  her  at  some 
time  during  the  night,"  said  Marion.     "  She  is  pr&ity, 
isn't  she?" 

"  Lovely  !  But  you  look  so  tired,  I  am  afraid  the 
excitement  of  it  all  is  too  much  for  you." 

"  No ;  I  was  glad,  glad  you  brought  her  here.  For 
she  is  so  pretty — just  like  a  charming,  lovely  baby. 
What  hands  and  feet  to  be  on  a  grown  woman  !" 

"  Oh,  Marion,  what  a  wonderful  woman  you  are  ! 
Not  one  in  ten  thousand  would  have  allowed  me 

So 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

to  bring  that  little  thing  into  her  house.  Do  you  know 
that  you  are  all  I  have,  now  that  I  have  lost  Ridley  ?" 

"  How  have  you  lost  him  ?    Was  he  jealous  ?" 

"  No  !  A  thousand  times  no  !  He  wouldn't  be  jeal 
ous  of  any  flirtation,  no  matter  how  outrageous,  pro 
vided  the  man  were  in  his  set,  and  no  one  could  com 
ment  on  me  for  it !  He  is  more  terribly  afraid  of  Mrs. 
Grundy  than  any  woman  I  know." 

"  Then  why  did  he  let  you  go  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  let  me  go  easily  enough.  He  would  not 
fight  to  keep  me.  I  saw  a  man  to-night  who — " 

"  Who  what  ?" 

"  Nothing.  He  seemed  like  a  big  man,  that  is  all.  He 
made  Ridley  seem  so  small." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"Absolutely  nothing.  But  I  felt  him.  I  believe  that 
he  could  do  things  !" 

"  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  I  believe  that  he  has  been  every 
where  and  seen  everything,  and  that  he  has  come  out  of 
it — clean." 

"  You  are  young  !"  said  Marion,  tightening  her 
hands  in  her  lap. 

"  Where  is  Oscar  ?" 

"  In  New  York,  I  suppose.  He  is  coming  back  on 
Thursday.  When  do  you  go  ?" 

"  Next  week.  And  oh  !  except  for  you,  I  should  be  so 
glad  to  go,  if  only  it  were  not  that  we  are  going  to  ex 
patriate  ourselves  —  for  no  reason  at  all !  But,  after 
all,  why  not  ?  I  am  out  of  place  here  !  Think  what 
would  happen  if  the  people  in  that  big,  black  house  over 
there  could  see  into  this  apartment !  Think  what  Rid 
ley's  father  and  mother  would  say !  Think  what  every 
body  would  say  !" 

Marion  laughed. 

"  Well,  we  know,  and  it  is  our  secret.  Would  you 

51 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

like  me  better,  Rose,  if  I  were  smaller — about  the  size  of 
that  little  creature  in  there  ?" 

"  No,  dear.  I  like  you  just  as  you  are.  I  like  your 
eyes,  and  your  hair,  and  your  coloring,  and  your  strong 
points,  and  your  weak  ones.  I  want  no  change  in  you. 
1  think  a  love  which  is  always  crying  for  a  change  in 
the  beauty  or  character  of  a  loved  one  is  but  a  poor 
article.  I  love  you  for  your  very  faults,  if  you  must 
know  the  truth  !" 

Her  friend  smiled  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"There!     1  heard  her  stir.     I'll  go  to  her,"  said  Rose. 

It  was  after  five  o'clock,  yet  the  light  was  burning, 
and  Rose  found  the  girl  sitting  up  in  bed,  gathering 
her  hair  up  in  both  hands  and  staring  at  a  picture  on 
the  wall  with  wild  eyes. 

"  Shut  the  door,"  she  whispered. 

Rose  closed  it  and  came  over  to  the  bedside.  The 
girl  seized  her  hands  and  nestled  close  to  her. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  she  whispered,  "  and  who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  Rose  Hollenden.  I  found  you  last  night  out 
side  of  Rector's,  shivering  with  cold,  without  any  money, 
and  not  knowing  where  you  lived,  so  I  brought  you  here 
to  a  friend  of  mine,  and  we  put  you  to  bed." 

*  Who  is  that  man  ?"  whispered  the  girl,  pointing  to 
the  picture. 

"  That  is  the  husband  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Oscar  Greg- 
ory." 

"  Am  1  in  his  house  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  his  wife  see  me  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Does  she  know  my  name  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Help  me  to  dress  and  get  me  away  from  here." 

"  Oh,  not  yet.  It  is  still  dark,  and  you  couldn't  stand 
even  yet,  1  am  afraid." 

52 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Yes,  1  can.  Give  me  something,  can't  you  ? — some 
coffee  or  anything.  I  must  go  1  Did  she  help  you  to 
undress  me  ?" 

"  Yes.  But  don't  get  up.  You  are  dreaming.  Lie 
down  and  try  to  sleep.  Why  do  you  do  this  way  ?" 

"  Did  1  say  why  I  was  at  Rector's  last  night  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  said  you  were  there  to  meet  some  man." 

The  girl  looked  around  fearfully,  to  make  sure  no  one 
was  listening. 

"  Well,  I  was  there  to  meet  him  I" 

"  To  meet  Oscar  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  But  he  is  in  New  York  !" 

A  cunning  look  came  into  the  girl's  eyes. 

"  No,  he  is  in  my  flat.  My  name  is  Lena  Marot.  He 
came  back  yesterday.  He  told  her  he  couldn't  get  back 
until  Thursday.  We  had  a  quarrel  and  he  left  me.  I 
thought  he  might  go  to  Rector's  about  midnight,  and  if 
I  drove  up  and  waited  outside  I  might  see  him.  But  I 
went  to  supper  first,  and  they  put  something  in  the 
champagne.  I  saw  them  do  it.  Then  I  forgot  and  drank 
it,  and  1  don't  remember  anything  more." 

"  Oh,  how  awful  !"  cried  Rose. 

"  Hush  !  Don't  let  her  come.  Go  in  and  see  if  she  is 
asleep.  Then  come  back  and  help  me  dress." 

Rose  tried  to  quiet  her,  but  to  no  avail.  Then  she  left 
her  and  went  back  to  Marion.  She  found  her  sitting  up 
in  bed  with  a  curious  smile  on  her  face. 

"  Is  she  awake  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  if  you  want  coffee,  I've  started  it  in  that  Ger 
man  coffee-boiler.  Let  it  boil  a  few  minutes  longer." 

"  She  wants  to  go.     Perhaps  we'd  better  let  her." 

"  Not  yet.     Have  her  wait  until  it  is  quite  light." 

"  You  are  not  coming  in  to  see  her,  then  ?"  asked  Rose, 
fearfully. 

53 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Not  just  yet,"  said  Marion,  smiling  again. 

Rose  went  back,  and  the  girl  clutched  at  her  eagerly. 

"  She  is  not  coming  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  why  should  you  be  afraid  ?  She  does  not 
know  you." 

"  Oh,  1  know  she  doesn't  1  But  how  could  I  face  her  ? 
Is  this  her  bed  ?" 

"  Yes." 

The  girl  struggled  to  get  out  of  it,  but  Rose  prevented 
her. 

"  Lie  still  !"  she  commanded,  "  or  I'll  go  and  tell  her  !" 

The  girl  gave  one  frightened  glance  upward  into 
Rose's  face,  then  she  laid  her  lips  against  Rose's  hand 
and  kissed  her  fingers. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  me  here  ?  Why  didn't  you  take 
me  to  the  Young  Women's  Benevolent  Association  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  !" 

Rose  sat  on  the  bed,  holding  her  hands  and  answer 
ing  her  eager  questions  until  broad  day. 

Suddenly  the  girl  sat  up. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  ?  I'm  going 
home — back  to  my  father.  You've  broken  my  heart 
with  your  kindness.  You  don't  preach,  and  you  haven't 
asked  me  to  reform,  and  you  don't  hold  away  from  me, 
yet  you  are  only  a  young  girl  who  ought  to  be  more  par 
ticular.  What  you've  done  for  me  this  night  has  done 
more  good  than  anything  else  I've  ever  heard.  I'll  write 
to  Oscar  and  tell  him  why.  I'll  tell  him  it  is  because 
I  met  two  good  women." 

Rose  bent  down  and  kissed  her.  She  did  not  even  say 
she  was  glad,  but  the  girl  knew. 

Marion  brought  the  breakfast-tray  while  she  was 
dressing,  and  the  three  sat  together  and  ate  their  toast 
and  talked.  The  girl's  face  cooled  down,  and  she  sat 
and  listened  humbly. 

As  the  two  watched  her  go  down  the  steps  and  into 

54 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  street,  Rose  sighed.  Marion  turned,  and,  laying 
her  hands  upon  her  friend's  shoulders,  looked  her  di 
rectly  in  the  eyes. 

"  Don't  think  I  am  a  deceived  wife,"  she  said.  "  That 
is  Lena  Marot.  I  knew  at  once  that  hers  was  the  face 
my  husband  wears  in  his  watch  where  mine  used  to  be. 
Through  her  we  have  each  lost  —  you,  your  lover,  and 
1  my  husband.  At  what  a  price  is  a  soul  saved  !" 

"  There  must  always  be  the  human  sacrifice,"  an 
swered  Rose.  "  We  have  lost  the  men,  but  we  have 
found — love." 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  the  deck  of  the  St.  Louis,  outward  bound,  stood  a 
man  and  a  woman  looking  down  on  the  hundreds  of 
people  crowded  on  the  New  York  pier. 

It  was  past  the  hour  to  sail,  but  still  luggage  was 
being  carried  aboard,  carriages  were  driving  up  bear 
ing  belated  passengers,  and  sacks  of  the  last  mail  were 
being  passed  over  the  narrow  strip  of  green  water  which 
slopped  between  the  black  steamer  and  the  slimy  piles  of 
the  pier. 

Porters,  reporters,  friends  and  enemies  ran  up  and 
down  the  gang-plank  like  excited  ants.  The  people  on 
the  pier  looked  up  at  the  passengers  on  deck.  Some 
looked  relieved.  Some  men  were  sending  their  families 
abroad  for  a  year.  Some  women  were  weeping.  Their 
husbands  were  going  on  business.  Families  were 
being  divided.  Quite  a  number  were  in  deep  mourning. 
Those  who  could  afford  it  were  going  to  mourn  abroad. 
Those  who  could  not  stood  on  the  pier  and  faced  a  year 
of  retirement  from  society.  Perhaps  they  comforted 
themselves  with  the  thought  that  they  could  learn  French 
during  that  year. 

Still  others  looked  with  frank  envy  upon  the  happy 
hundreds  who,  out  of  the  unhappy  seventy  millions,  were 
buying  the  inestimable  privilege  of  leaving  crudity  and 
varnish  and  going  among  repose  and  ruins.  They 
looked  most  of  all  at  the  tall  young  woman  on  the  upper 
deck,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  land  she  was  leav 
ing  with  an  eagerness  to  stamp  even  its  unloveliest  details 

56 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

upon  her  memory.  Everybody  knew  that  she  was 
going  abroad  to  live.  Everybody  knew  that  her  going 
took  more  millions  of  dollars  out  of  America  than  she 
had  lived  years  in  her  life.  The  young  women,  her 
friends,  who  had  come  down  at  the  unheard-of  hour  of  ten 
o'clock  to  see  her  safely  on  board,  breathed  a  sigh  of 
genuine  relief  ,at  the  knowledge  that  Rose  Hollenden, 
with  her  big  eyes  and  her  millions,  was  going  to  take 
herself  out  of  their  way.  She  was  really  a  nuisance, 
this  "  dear  Rose"  of  theirs,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  deep  re 
gret  that  Shirley,  her  brother,  was  going  too.  And 
even  her  father,  although  being  so  hopelessly  Western 
as  to  be  almost  impossible,  was  worth  considering.  He 
was  a  widower,  perhaps  not  too  old  to  learn,  nor  yet  too 
young  to  die,  and  his  riches — they  fell  to  calculating  the 
chances  for  and  against  with  all  the  keenness  of  a  Wall 
Street  broker.  Shirley  was  the  only  "dead  loss."  He 
was  in  every  way  eligible.  They  wondered  if,  in  or 
der  to  get  Rose  out  of  their  matrimonial  path,  it  was 
worth  while  to  lose  Shirley. 

But  it  was  so  romantic,  the  way  in  which  Mr.  Hollen 
den,  after  having  permitted  his  children  to  be  educated 
where  they  chose,  often  without  seeing  their  father  for 
years  at  a  time,  was  now  gathering  them  together. 
They  were  practically  going  to  be  introduced  to  each 
other,  these  sisters  and  brother,  and  to  their  father.  He 
only  knew  their  names,  and  how  much  each  had  cost 
him,  because  his  books  showed  it.  He  was  meeting  un 
known  obstacles  and  curious  conditions  on  all  sides.  His 
oldest  daughter,  the  only  child  of  his  first  wife  (he  colored 
whenever  he  thought  of  his  first  wife,  who  had  cooked  his 
meals  before  he  married  her  in  the  mines  of  Nevada), 
this  child  of  a  Danish  mother,  having  lived  in  Europe 
for  twenty-two  years,  now  calmly  refused  to  come  to 
America,  so  he  had  been  forced  to  found  this  home 
abroad.  Maria  insisted  upon  Paris,  and  on  the  eve  of 

57 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

their  sailing  astonished  everybody  by  cabling  that  she 
had  rented  an  apartment  in  the  rue  de  Chaillot.  Rose 
stared  and  Shirley  whistled,  but  Mr.  Hollenden  felt  un 
easy,  and  turned  his  neck  many  times  as  if  his  collar 
hurt  him.  He  remembered  what  an  ungovernable 
child  Maria  used  to  be.  He  wondered  if,  now  that  she 
was  a  woman  of  thirty-nine,  she  had  outgrown  certain 
traits  which  she  seemed  to  have  inherited  from  her  low 
born  mother.  He  had  so  risen  in  the  world  that  he 
could  see  now  that  his  foreign  wife  had  been  low-born 
and  in  no  way  a  match  for  him.  He  had  yet  to  learn 
that  his  other  children  might  possibly,  upon  a  nearer 
acquaintance,  come  to  consider  him  low-born.  His 
ignorance  of  the  unknown  and  explosive  elements  in  the 
crucible  he  was  compounding  gave  him  momentary 
peace,  and  he  was  almost  comforted  when  he  thought 
with  a  glow  of  supreme  satisfaction  of  his  vast,  his 
almost  boundless  wealth.  Whatever  there  was,  any 
where  within  the  confines  of  the  known  earth,  which 
was  to  be  bought,  he  could  buy.  His  check-book  lay 
over  Tiis  heart  and  fairly  purred  with  content  over  its 
perfected  foreign  policy. 

With  Rose  it  was  different.  She  loved  America  with  a 
passion  and  a  fervor  which  was  a  direct  inheritance 
from  her  mother,  who  had  died  in  Rose's  infancy.  The 
second  Mrs.  Hollenden  had  been  an  army  girl,  and  had 
handed  down  to  Rose  her  intense  love  of  country,  her  love 
of  freedom,  and  her  artistic  temperament.  Rose  had 
gone  everywhere.  She  knew  her  own  country  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  from  Seattle  to  Tampa,  and  she 
loved  it  with  a  love  which  few  ever  cared  to  understand. 

This  horrible  new  idea  of  going  away  from  it  forever, 
to  live  away  from  it,  almost  suffocated  her.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  would  only  live  to  get  back  home.  People 
looked  at  her  pityingly  when  she  said  these  things,  and 
she  resented  their  smiles  of  superiority.  As  they  waved 

58 


their  handkerchiefs  and  called  to  her,  she  looked  down 
at  them  with  feelings  of  anger  and  envy.  She  would 
have  changed  places  with  any  of  them. 

The  color  came  more  and  more  into  her  face,  and  a 
lock  of  hair  blew  forward  across  her  cheek.  Her  com 
panion  watched  her  in  silence.  Her  lips  moved. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said. 

She  started. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  talking  aloud.  But  I  was  think 
ing  that  those  people  are  actually  envying  us." 

"  Why  not,  pray  ?  We  are  going  away  from  foul 
odors,  from  corruption,  from  newness,  vulgarity,  and 
parvenus,  to  the  land  of  art,  refinement,  and  culture.  We 
are  going  to  the  only  land  in  the  world  where  they  know 
how  to  live.  Americans  live  always  in  to-morrow- 
The  Frenchman  lives  in  to-day.  He  fills  the  present 
hour.  The  American  builds  for  the  hour  to  come.  The 
Frenchman's  wealth  is  an  accessory  to  him.  The 
American  is  an  accessory  to  his  wealth." 

"Ah,  but  we  were  born  here.  We  are  Americans. 
Why  do  you  wish  to  live  abroad,  Mr.  Townshend  ?  What 
do  we  say  of  people  who  come  here  to  live  ?  We  say 
'  What  is  their  business  ?'  And  if  they  have  none — " 
She  paused. 

"  If  they  had  none,  we  would  think  they  were  crazy." 

She  cast  a  look  of  irritation  at  him. 

"  But  do  you  notice  that  we  seldom,  if  ever,  find  Eng 
lish  or  French  people  of  position  or  wealth  living  here 
who  have  no  excuse  of  business  or  family  ties  for  re 
maining,  and  who  live  here  simply  because  they  like 
America  ?" 

"  Well,  why  should  they  ?" 

"  Exactly,  why  should  they  ?  Why  should  anybody 
live  in  America  who  could  get  away  from  it  ?" 

"  I  hate  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  way  of  my  country, 
Mr.  Townshend,"  said  the  girl,  quietly. 

59 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Your  country.     Have  I,  then,  no  part  in  it  ?" 

"  No  one  has  who  does  not  love  it.  Oh,  see,  there 
comes  Shirley,  and  what  is  he  doing  ?  Why,  the  crowd 
will  push  Lida  into  the  water  \" 

Near  the  entrance  to  the  gang-plank  stood  Shirley 
Hollenden,  a  broad-shouldered  athlete,  got  up  in  English 
tweeds.  Behind  him  was  a  small,  lithe  American  girl,  of 
the  nervous,  vivacious  type,  who  peered  up  at  the  big 
fellow  from  near-sighted,  red-brown  eyes.  She  chirped 
his  name,  and  he  turned  with  difficulty,  considering  the 
pressure  from  behind,  and,  taking  her  by  the  shoulders, 
he  set  her  in  front  of  him  upon  the  gang-plank.  She 
tossed  her  thanks  to  him,  and  sped  up  the  narrow  way 
without  looking  back.  But  as  Shirley  made  way  for 
her  to  pass  him,  a  Frenchman,  who  had  been  crowding 
forward,  hat  in  hand,  bowing  and  saying  "  Pardon  "  at 
every  step,  but  pushing  women  and  children  cruelly, 
stooped  to  slip  under  Shirley  Hollenden's  arm,  and  thus 
gain  the  gang  -  plank  ahead  of  a  white-capped  nurse 
maid  leading  a  little  child.  The  child  screamed  out 
that  the  man  had  stepped  on  her,  the  nurse  was  rough 
ly  jostled,  and  Shirley,  with  the  blood  pouring  into  his 
blond  face,  stooped  and  caught  the  little  Frenchman 
and  most  ungently  jerked  him  backward,  flattening 
him  out  behind  his  big  tweed  shoulders  while  he  allowed 
the  woman  and  children  to  pass  them  both. 

"  Sack  of  paper  !"  shrieked  the  Frenchman,  with 
purple  face.  Shirley  grinned  at  this  fierce  French  oath, 
but  held  him  back  until  he  was  ready  to  release  him. 

When  the  pressure  from  the  crowd  had  somewhat 
lessened,  Shirley  withdrew  his  weight,  and  the  bruised 
little  Frenchman,  screaming  in  falsetto  French,  hopped 
around  like  a  nut  on  a  hot  shovel,  much  to  the  delight 
of  the  deck-hands  and  porters. 

"  Sack  of  paper !  I  will  have  your  heart's  blood  for 
this  insult !"  he  screamed.  "  I  will  give  you  a  knock 

60 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

that  will  send  you  into  the  water.  I  will  fight  you  the 
moment  the  ship  lands  us.  Why  did  you  half  kill 
me?" 

"  Because  you  crowded  the  women  !"  answered  Shir 
ley. 

The  Frenchman  stared  at  being  answered  in  his  own 
language. 

"  But  you  did  not  know  them  !  They  were  not  friends 
of  yours  !" 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  them  !"  thundered  Shirley.  "  But 
they  were  women,  weren't  they  ?  And  children,  weren't 
they  ?  And  you  trod  on  them,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  And  what  business  was  it  of  yours,  may  I  ask  ?  Are 
you  a  policeman  ?  Where  is  your  club  ?  Where  are 
your  brass  buttons  ?  Now,  will  you  fight  me  ?  Here  is 
my  card  I  Ah,  mon  Dieu  I  You  tear  it  up  !  Sack  of 
paper  1" 

"  I  only  fight  with  gentlemen  !"  answered  Shirley, 
tossing  the  fragments  into  the  water. 

"  Good  old  Shirley !  Stand  up  for  yourself,  old  man  !" 
cried  a  voice  from  the  deck  above.  And  another  cried, 
"  Bully  for  you,  Hollenden  !" 

At  the  sound  of  his  name  the  Frenchman's  whole 
attitude  changed.  His  face  grew  white  and  then  fiery 
red.  He  backed  away  from  Shirley,  and  then  came 
towards  him  again. 

"  Is  it  that  1  address  M.  Hollenden  ?"  he  said,  raising 
his  hat.  "  Alas  !  how  I  regret  my  hasty  words.  Pray 
pardon  me.  I  offer  a  thousand  apologies.  I  have  the 
honor  of  knowing  your  sister  in  Paris.  Allow  me  to 
present  my  card.  I  hope  you  will  not  tear  it  up  this 
time." 

Shirley  gave  him  a  quizzical  look,  and,  taking  the 
card,  read, 

"  Marquis  d'Auteuil." 

Then  he  shook  hands  with  him  reluctantly,  and, 

61 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

mounting  the  gang-plank,  disappeared  from  the  view 
of  those  on  the  deck  above. 

"  Well/'  said  Rose,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "  I  am  glad 
that's  settled  !  But  oh,  see,  we  are  off  !" 

There  was  no  motion  in  the  great  ship  to  show  that 
she  had  started.  Only  the  restless  moving  to  and  fro  of 
the  passengers  and  the  widening  of  the  strip  of  green 
water. 

The  people  on  shore  hurried  to  the  end  of  the  pier, 
shouting  good-byes,  waving  handkerchiefs  and  throw 
ing  kisses  to  those  on  board. 

There  was  no  one  on  the  pier  whom  Rose  cared  for. 
She  knew  how  little  their  affection  for  her  was  worth, 
and  yet,  as  their  faces  began  to  recede,  she  stretched  out 
her  hands  to  them  with  a  sudden  tightening  of  the  heart. 

"  Good-bye  !  Good-bye  1"  she  whispered.  "  Good 
bye,  dear  country  1  My  country  !  Good-bye,  dear 
flag  !" 

She  laid  her  face  against  her  arm  and  burst  into  tears. 

An  artist  from  the  New  York  Hot  Blast,  who  was  going 
back  on  the  pilot,  sketched  her  thus,  and  her  friends 
sneered  at  the  picture  the  following  Sunday. 

"  Don't  say  good-bye  to  the  flag  as  if  you  were  never 
going  to  see  it  again,"  said  Townshend,  putting  him 
self  in  the  way  of  some  people  who  tried  to  crowd  past 
her.  "  Didn't  you  persuade  your  father  to  come  by  this 
line,  because  it  is  the  only  one  which  flies  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,  and  sha'n't  you  sleep  under  its  protection  every 
night  until  we  reach  the  land  of  the  Union  Jack  ?" 

"  Oh,  but  we  are  saying  good-bye  to  it  deliberately, 
without  any  excuse.  I  may  never  see  America  again." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  man,  half  roughly.  "  You 
wouldn't  marry  a  foreigner,  would  you  ?" 

"  If  I  should,  then  I  could  get  back  to  America  occa 
sionally,"  said  the  girl,  smiling  a  little. 

Her  companion  laughed. 

62 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  You  have  all  the  charming  American  girl's  un 
conscious  arrogance  concerning  her  power  over  men. 
But  your  acquaintance  with  Europeans  will  give  you  a 
new  point  of  view." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  if  I  married  a  European, 
1  would  never  succeed  in  persuading  him  to  live  in 
America  ?" 

"  I  doubt  it,  although,  on  my  soul,  he  would  have  a 
hard  heart  who  could  resist  you  !  But  is  that  the  aim 
of  your  existence  ?" 

"  The  end  of  everything  !" 

"Alas  !  how  differently  you  will  feel  when  you  have 
been  over  there  three  years  !  You  should  hear  your 
sister  talk." 

"Ah,  but  she  has  been  over  there  twenty-two  years. 
She  never  has  known  a  home  in  all  that  time.  No  won 
der  she  likes  it.  Besides,  if  she  hadn't  liked  it,  she 
could  have  come  back  to  America." 

"  She  hates  America,  she  says." 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  know  my  sister  so  well, 
and  I  never  have  seen  her." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  her  very  well.  I  meet  her  now 
and  then  travelling.  I  met  her  last  year  at  Beyreuth, 
and  the  winter  before  that  we  were  both  in  Egypt 
together.  But  we  were  at  different  hotels.  She  was 
at  Ghezireh  Palace  and  I  was  at  Shepheards'.  She 
wouldn't  stay  at  Shepheards'  because  there  were  too 
many  Americans  there."  • 

"  Doesn't  my  sister  like  Americans,  either  ?" 

"  She  hates  them,  too,  she  says." 

"  Dear  me,  I  wonder  how  she  will  like  us.  We  are 
Americans.  Is  she  like  a  foreigner  in  appearance  ?" 

"  No,  and  yet  she  is  not  like  an  American,  either.  She 
is  very  small — not  over  half  your  size,  I  should  say." 

He  glanced  into  the  eyes  of  the  girl,  which  were  almost 
on  a  level  with  his  own. 

63 


THE   EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,  I  am  too  big.  Shirley  says  I  ought  to  have  been 
a  boy." 

"  Shirley  is  a  fine  fellow,  I  hear.  I  haven't  met  him  yet. " 

"  I  don't  know  him  very  well  myself,"  confessed  his 
sister.  "  We  are  such  a  queer  family — all  grown  up,  and 
yet  strangers  to  each  other.  Tell  me  more  about  my  sis 
ter.  She  belongs  to  a  former  generation,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  Heavens,  don't  let  her  discover  that !  She  con 
siders  herself  a  debutante !  She  has  the  Continental 
idea  that  an  unmarried  woman  dare  not  think  before  a 
man.  She  looks  upon  marriage  as  liberty." 

"  She  isn't  one  of  these  afflictingly  young  persons,  I 
hope  !" 

"  I  shall  have  to  allow  you  to  become  acquainted  with 
her  for  yourself." 

"  There  must  be  something  very  odd  about  her,  for 
every  one  tells  me  that.  No  one  will  ever  talk  of  her  to 
me — not  even  the  people  who  knew  her  as  a  child.  And 
those  who  have  met  her  and  known  her  very  well  abroad 
have  the  least  to  say  of  her.  I  suppose  it  is  because  they 
know  her  tastes,  and  they  are  sure  that  she  will  not  like 
me." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?    Why  do  you—?" 

"  It  is  that  man  over  there.  He  stares  so.  Can't  you 
stand  in  front  of  me  ?" 

"  I  think  that  is  the  little  Frenchman  that  Shirley 
nearly  squeezed  to  death  a  few  moments  ago.  He  looks 
rather  flattened  out." 

The  Frenchman,  having  watched  Rose  until  she 
vanished  from  view  behind  a  stupid  American  who 
evidently  was  monopolizing  her,  sought  Shirley  Hollen- 
den  in  the  smoking-room. 

"  Excuse  me,  M.  Hollenden,"  he  said. 

Shirley  got  to  his  feet  writh  visible  reluctance. 

"  Your  sister  is  on  board,  is  she  not  ?" 

*  Yes." 

64 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  She  is  very  tall  and  very  beautiful  ?"  persisted  the 
marquis. 

"  She  is  not  repulsive  to  the  eye,"  said  her  brother. 

"  Excuse  me  if  I  ask  one  more  question.  She  is  on  the 
upper  deck  with  a  tall  American  gentleman,  M.  Town- 
shend  ?" 

*  I  believe  so." 

"Ah,  thank  you!" 

The  marquis  grasped  Shirley's  hand  with  effusion 
and  hurried  away. 

He  passed  through  the  saloon,  the  long  tables  of  which 
were  crowded  with  gorgeous  flowers  and  fruits  of  every 
description.  Eager  passengers  crowded  around  to  read 
the  names  on  the  cards.  The  most  of  the  flowers  were 
American  Beauty  roses.  They  were  in  long  white  boxes, 
with  their  stems  protruding  through  holes  cut  in  the 
ends  of  the  boxes.  They  were  in  huge  bouquets  tied 
with  long  satin  ribbons.  They  were  in  pyramids, 
whose  height  reached  up  five  feet.  The  marquis  had 
never  seen  such  roses,  nor  imagined  them,  nor  do  they 
grow  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  with  such  stems  and 
such  color  and  such  fragrance. 

As  he  passed  he  heard  one  woman  say : 

"  All  of  these  American  Beauties,  except  one  box,  are 
for  Miss  Rose  Hollenden.* 

He  paused  to  assure  himself  of  the  truth  of  this  re 
mark.  He  had  been  warned  in  Paris  not  to  take  any 
thing  for  granted.  Then  he  hurried  to  his  man. 

"  Find  out  from  the  deck  steward  the  name  of  that 
beautiful  young  girl  there  in  the  cream-colored  gown." 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  man  came  back. 

"  Mademoiselle  Hollenden,  of  enormous  wealth.  She 
and  her  father  and  brother  are  on  board  and  occupy  six 
deck  state-rooms." 

"  Very  good.     Take  this  telegram  and  send  it  back  by 
the  pilot.     Send  it  to  my  sister  in  Paris  at  once." 
E  65 


CHAPTER  VI 

ALL  the  women  were  sea-sick  on  the  second  day  out 
from  New  York,  with  the  exception  of  Rose  HolJenden 
and  one  small,  thin  girl,  who  fought  against  the  wind 
and  paced  the  slippery  deck  on  the  lee  side,  clad  in  a 
brown  storm-coat  and  a  smart  little  scarlet  hat. 

The  men  watched  her  pluck  admiringly,  several  se 
cretly  wishing  to  walk  with  her,  not  so  much  because 
of  her  beauty  as  because  her  warm  hat  made  a  charm 
ing  spot  of  color  against  the  leaden  day.  Once  or  twice 
the  wind  nearly  swept  her  off  her  feet,  but  she  slid  along 
the  wet  deck  to  the  gunwale  and  clung  to  it  laughingly 
until  the  ship  righted  herself,  when  the  girl  ploughed 
forward  again  like  a  brave  little  yacht  sailing  against 
the  wind. 

Suddenly  the  ship  listed,  and,  taking  the  girl  unawares, 
she  fell.  Instantly  two  men  sprang  to  her  rescue  and 
lifted  her.  They  all  three  clung  together  for  a  moment 
before  they  could  gain  their  balance. 

Laughing,  in  spite  of  the  awkwardness  of  the  situa 
tion,  the  girl  cried  : 

"  You  are  dying  to  say,  '  Now,  will  you  be  good  ?' 
only  you  don't  dare,  because  you  think  you  don't  know 
me,  but  you  do.  I  am  Lida  Schermerhorn,  and  you  are 
Sterling  Townshend,  and  we  met  two  years  ago  at 
your  cousin's,  Baronne  Valencia's,  in  Paris." 

The  wind  took  her  breath  away  at  this  juncture,  and 
she  put  her  head  behind  Townshend's  tweed  shoulder 
and  went  on  : 

66 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

"  Don't  let  go  of  me,  either  of  you,  whatever  you  do, 
for  my  ankle  feels  uncommonly  queer  and  shaky." 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  Have  you  sprained  it  ?"  they  both 
asked. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Could  you  get  me  to  that  steamer- 
chair,  do  you  think  ?" 

"  We  can  try/'  they  answered. 

Twice  they  essayed  to  ascend  the  slippery  incline, 
but  twice  they  slid  back  again,  and  the  girl's  face  twist 
ed  with  pain. 

Townshend  saw  it,  and  without  more  ado  he  picked 
her  up  like  the  child  that  she  seemed  and  deposited  her 
in  the  steamer-chair. 

"  How  fine  !"  she  cried.  "  How  strong  you  are  !  I 
owe  you  a  thousand  thanks." 

"  That  must  have  been  a  nasty  turn  you  gave  your 
ankle,"  said  Carteret.  "  Your  lips  have  gone  quite 
white.  Shall  I  get  you  some  wine  ?" 

"  No,  indeed.  It  feels  heaps  better  already.  I  don't 
believe  it  is  sprained.  I  think  it  was  just  one  of  those 
convenient  turns  ordained  by  an  over-ruling  Provi 
dence  to  deliver  you  into  my  keeping.  I  shall  treasure 
its  memory." 

Both  men  laughed.  She  looked  like  a  pert  little  spar 
row,  as  she  huddled  in  the  big  steamer-chair  and  peered 
up  at  them  from  her  red-brown  eyes. 

"  I  never  would  have  known  you,"  said  Townshend. 
"  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  ?" 

She  looked  surprised. 

"  Where  have  you  been  for  two  years  ?"  she  asked. 

"  In  Paris.  I  never  go  back  to  America  except  for  a 
month  now  and  then  at  the  ranch." 

"  Then  you  don't  know  that  we  lost  all  our  money, 
and  that  if  it  were  not  for  my  trade,  I  would  be  going 
round  to  your  mother's  back  door  with  a  gray  shawl 
over  my  head,  begging  for  food  ?" 

67 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  But — but  your  relatives — your  sister,  Mrs.  Stock 
ton — "  stammered  Townshend. 

The  other  man — the  man  who  had  not  been  present 
ed,  Sir  Arthur  Carteret,  stood  by,  held  by  the  command 
in  her  manner  which  would  not  release  him.  Her  ab 
solute  self-control  and  gay  comradeship  always  made 
men  feel  at  ease  in  her  presence.  He  even  knew  that 
she  did  not  object  to  his  hearing  her  pick  up  the  dropped 
stitches  in  her  history  for  Townshend. 

"  Pooh  !  Would  you  have  me  a  genteel  pauper  ?" 
she  demanded,  as  though  they  owned  some  stock  in  her 
government,  and  had  a  right  to  dictate.  "  I  earn  my 
own  living,  and  have  done  it  for  two  years." 

"  What's  your  specialty  ?"  asked  Townshend,  laughing. 

"  What  did  you  first  notice  about  me  when  I  came  on 
deck  to-day  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Your  hat,"  said  both  men,  in  a  breath. 

She  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Exactly  !  That's  my  '  specialty ' — hats  !  Fve  always 
loved  them.  I've  always  known  how  and  when  and 
where  to  wear  hats,  from  some  occult  spring  of  knowl 
edge  situated  in  the  innermost  recesses  of  my  soul. 
Some  people  keep  their  religion  there.  I  don't.  I  keep 
my  wisdom  in  hats  in  that  sacred  temple.  I  believe, 
without  boasting,  that  I  know  by  intuition  more  about 
hats,  and  which  will  suit  certain  faces,  than  any  woman 
in  New  York.  My  own  are  always  loves,  and  so  when 
I  had  to  have  money  I  sold  my  knowledge,  of  how  not 
to  let  beautiful  women  look  hideous  in  expensive  hats,  to 
the  highest  bidder.  There  you  are — Miss  Lida  Scher- 
merhorn,  ex-heiress,  at  your  service  !" 

"  By  Jove  !  Carteret,  you  can't  beat  that  in  old  Eng 
land,  can  you  ?" 

"  Is  his  name  Carteret  ?"  asked  the  girl,  surveying 
him  from  her  near-sighted  eyes  through  her  lorgnon. 
"You  forgot  to  mention  it?" 

68 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Her  impertinence  struck  Carteret  as  delicious. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Scher — " 

"  Stop,"  she  said.  "  You  were  going  to  spoil  things.  I 
don't  want  him  introduced.  He  is  an  Englishman,  and 
I  shall  shock  him  by  being  the  very  sort  of  an  American 
girl  he  thinks  we  all  are.  I  began  the  acquaintance  by 
sliding  almost  into  his  arms.  Don't  spoil  things  by  an 
introduction  at  this  late  day." 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,"  said  Carteret,  "  only  I  am  not 
living  in  England  now." 

"  Where  do  you  live  now  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  In  Paris." 

"Expatriates  —  both  of  you!"  she  said,  scornfully, 
turning  her  glasses  on  them. 

"  But  he  is  the  First  Secretary  of  the  English  Lega 
tion,"  said  Townshend. 

"  Oh,  then  I  forgive  him  \"  said  Miss  Schermerhorn, 
laughing. 

"  To  return  to  hats — is  there  really  such  a  science  in 
knowing  about  them  ?" 

"  Science  ?  No  !  It's  a  fine  art  !  It  comes  next  to 
music  and  painting.  It  comes  in  before  sculpture  and 
architecture  !  At  school  1  always  used  to  select  the 
girls'  hats  for  them.  Take  even  that  lovely  creature 
over  there  in  that  steamer-chair,  Rose  Hollenden,  I've 
bought  her  hats  for  her — selected  them,  I  mean — ever 
since  she  came  to  New  York.  She  used  to  wear  frights. 
She  got  them  in  Salt  Lake  or  Denver  or  Chicago,  and 
paid  fearful  prices  for  them,  and  never  knew  how  well 
she  could  look  until  I  began  to  dress  her.  Then  sud 
denly,  from  a  girl  with  only  big  eyes  and  no  waist,  she 
found  herself,  inside  of  a  year,  a  Beauty,  with  a  figure 
which  makes  a  tailor-gown  squeak  with  delight  to  be 
worn  by  her,  and  a  face  (under  my  hats  !)  which  makes 
half  the  women  and  all  the  men  turn  to  look  after  her  as 
she  walks.  Such  a  figure  !  Oh,  if  only  I  were  a  beauty 

69 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

how  I  would  dress  !  I'd  have  all  the  men  loving  me  and 
all  the  women  hating  me  !  Rose  doesn't  make  half 
of  her  opportunities  that  I  would  in  her  place." 

"  There  seems  to  be  something  about  her — something 
special — "  began  Townshend. 

Miss  Schermerhorn  interrupted  him. 

"  That's  it  exactly  !  She  isn't  like  any  of  us.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  her  advent  into  Miss  Van  Schaak's 
school.  She  was  from  the  West  and  she  was  said  to  be  so 
rich  that  her  millions  were  simply  uncountable.  We 
all  resolved  to  hate  her.  We  meant  to  be  so  mean  to  her 
that  she  would  leave.  We  drove  one  Chicago  girl  home 
that  way  once,  but  afterwards  we  were  sorry,  because  she 
married  an  English  lord  and  snubbed  my  sister  and  me 
publicly  in  London,  when  we  would  have  knelt  at  her 
feet  to  have  her  recognize  us.  The  way  she  did  it  was 
perfectly  superb.  Somebody  said,  '  Miss  Schermerhorn, 
doubtless  you  know  your  charming  compatriot,  Lady 
Hurlinghame.  She  can  do  everything  for  you  that  any 
young  lady  need  wish  in  London  society/  Well,  with 
that  she  put  up  her  lorgnon  and  gave  me  one  straight 
look,  which  reminded  me  of  every  mean  thing  we  ever  did 
to  run  her  out  of  Miss  Van  Schaak's,  and  then  she  said, 
'  So  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  Scuppernong.  Are  you 
from  the  West  ?  Excuse  me,  Lady  Dacier,  you  surely 
are  coming  to  me  on  the  10th.  You  know  the  prince  will 
be  there.  You  won't  forget  ?'  And  with  that  she 
nodded  to  me  over  her  shoulder  and  left  me  with  my 
mouth  open  !  It  was  so  superb  of  her  that  I  burst  out 
laughing.  That's  the  way  she  got  even  with  us  !  But 
I've  told  you  the  end  of  that  before  I  commenced  on 
Rose.  When  Rose  arrived  she  boarded  in  the  school. 
She  fitted  up  her  rooms  without  saying  a  word  to  any  of 
us.  She  wasn't  vulgar  nor  pushing  nor  loud-voiced. 
She  simply  stared  at  us  out  of  those  big  eyes  of  hers  as 
though  she  found  us  funny.  She  never  boasted,  and 

70 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

'  we  even  had  to  discover  for  ourselves  that  Shirley  Hollen- 
den  was  her  brother  !  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"  Well,  what  in  the  world  is  there  to  Shirley  Hollenden 
to  make  every  one  speak  of  him  with  such  awe  ?" 

"  Shirley  Hollenden  !  The  captain  of  the  Princeton 
football  team — the  man  who — " 

"  Oh !  '  Luff '  Hollenden !  Is  he  her  brother  ?  I  know 
him,"  said  Cartcret. 

"  Why,  so  do  I,"  said  Townshend,  recollecting.  "  I 
had  forgotten  what  a  little  tin  god  he  was  in  the  States." 

"  Little  tin  god  1  He's  a  glorious  golden  angel  !  If  I 
were  his  sister,  I'd  wear  placards  plastered  over  me  an 
nouncing  the  fact.  I'd  be  like  a  London  sandwich  man. 
I'd  ring  a  bell !  You  know  he  is  the  man  who  saved  the 
day  for  Princeton  when  they  played  against  Yale,  by — " 

"  So  he  did  !     I  remember  how — "  said  Carteret. 

"  The  way  he  started  in  !  Nobody  ever  thought — " 
interrupted  Townshend.  "  And  the  idea  of  daring  to — " 

"  At  first  nobody  could  see  that  he  meant  to — " 

"  And  then  the  impudence  of — " 

"  It  simply  paralyzed  Yale  for  a  minute  and — " 

"  Then  do  you  remember  what  a  yell  went  up  ?"  cried 
the  girl. 

"  I  wasn't  there/'  confessed  Carteret.  "  But  my  sis 
ter—" 

"  But  I  was,"  said  Townshend,  "  and  I  remember  that 
yell." 

"  It  was  awful  !  It  sounded  as  if  Princeton  yelled 
from  paradise  and  Yale  from  purgatory.  I  was  deaf  all 
the  rest  of  the  day,  although  at  the  time  I  shrieked  my 
self  hoarse,  and  ruined  my  best  hat  pounding  it  on  my 
brother-in-law's  back." 

"  It  was  the  same  sort  of  dare-devil  thing  that  he  did 
when  he  was  sailing  his  yacht,  when — " 

"  When  he  made  that  pilot's  luff  that  won  him  the 
race  !"  cried  Lida,  with  an  enthusiastic  little  bounce  in 

7' 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

her  steamer-chair  that  twisted  her  face  again  with  pain. 
But  she  went  on  hastily.  "No  matter!  It  was  noth 
ing  !  I  was  on  the  pier  when  he  did  it — right  on  the 
very  end  of  it,  leaning  away  over,  with  some  girls  hold 
ing  me  on  by  my  sash.  He  had  Rose  with  him — she  can 
sail  that  yacht  as  well  as  he  can — and  when  I  saw  them 
coming,  why,  it  looked  to  me  as  if  there  wasn't  room 
for  a  greyhound  to  squeeze  through — but  I  caught  Shir 
ley's  eye,  and  it  had  the  queerest,  steel-blue,  set  look  in 
it,  and  he  sort  of  braced  himself,  and  gave  an  order  to 
Rose,  and  she  hauled  in  a  rope,  and  the  Now  Then  flew 
into  that  narrow  strip,  and  I  shrieked,  and  Shirley 
laughed,  but  he  made  it  !  The  yacht  cut  off  a  good 
quarter  of  a  mile  by  that  luff  and  won  I  Won  by  the 
most  reckless  sailing  I  ever  saw  !  I  have  bad  dreams 
once  in  a  while,  and  always  dream  that  the  Now  Then 
is  making  for  that  narrow  strip  and  that  she  runs  into 
the  pier,  and  then  I  '  scrooch/  as  the  children  say,  and 
wake  up  in  the  wildest  excitement." 

"  How  crazy  you  are  over  sports  !"  laughed  Town- 
shend. 

"  So  would  you  be,  if  you  could  see  Shirley  at  them !" 
she  laughed,  with  a  defiant  little  tilt  of  her  chin.  "  He  is 
the  best  ever  \" 

"  How  amusing  college  slang  sounds !"  said  Town- 
shend.  "  The  French  miss  a  good  deal,  after  all,  by 
speaking  a  pure  language." 

"  Ah,  but  there  is  in  Paris  quite  a  little  vernacular 
which  corresponds  well  enough." 

"  It  is  not  universal,  however,  as  ours  is." 

"  No,  but  it  is  killing  when  you  do  hear  it.  In  the 
shops — the  smart  shops  where  I  have  to  do  all  my  buy 
ing — they  are  secretly  very  scornful  of  Americans,  so 
I  always  pretend  that  I  do  not  speak  French,  so  that  I 
can  treasure  up  their  impudence.  And  so  one  day  I 
was  giving  orders  for  a  number  of  changes  to  be  made 

72 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

in  their  models,  for  the  Americans  won't  wear  their  worst 
absurdities,  when  the  forewoman  said,  '  Mais  elle  a  du 
chien  pour  une  Americaine !' ' 

"Ah,  but  I  like  them,"  said  Townshend.  "I  like 
their  very  scorn  of  us.  They  amuse  me.  They  are  so 
childlike,  so  dramatic  over  trifles,  so  courteous." 

"  So  childish,  you  mean  !  So  theatrical,  not  dramat 
ic  ;  and  they  are  truly  courteous  only  to  each  other ! 
Now  take  England — there  is  a  dramatic  country,  if  you 
like.  There  are  no  sky-rockets  there." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Englishman,  coloring  like  a 
girl  at  the  little  American's  praise  of  his  country.  *  I 
thought  America  was  not  particularly  fond  of  England, 
from  what  I  heard." 

"  Oh,  we  don't  understand  each  other,  that  is  all.  You 
hate  our  expansiveness,  and  we  hate  your  reserve.  We 
say  you  are  stupid  and  can't  see  a  joke,  and  you  say  our 
sense  of  humor  is  aggressive,  and  you  find  our  constant 
jesting  irritating.  But,  after  all,  we  are  akin,  and  just 
let  some  big  common  danger  stare  us  in  the  face,  and 
you  would  see  that  blood  is  thicker  than  water,  and  we 
English-speakers  would  stand  by  each  other  !" 

"  Some  of  us  have  been  thinking  that  in  England  for 
some  years,  but  it  is  not  a  popular  sentiment  in  Ameri 
ca,  except  among  the  cultivated,  I  find. .  I  am  glad  to 
hear  it  from  you,  however." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  count  !  I  simply  talk  things  over,  most 
ly  with  Rose  Hollenden,  whose  ancestors  were  English, 
and  who  first  put  it  into  my  head  to  figure  out  what  I 
did  think  !  You  see,  mine  has  been  the  experience  and 
Rose's  the  thought.  Rose  is  one  of  the  few  women 
who  can  profit  by  vicarious  experience.  She  is  always 
digging  at  people  to  find  out  what  they  have  done.  That 
is  atavism  in  Rose — a  trait  from  her  far-off  English  an 
cestors,  who  believed  in  deeds.  Rose's  ideal  is  achieve 
ment.  She  adores  Cecil  Rhodes,  and  she  has  her  eye 

73 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

on  Kitchener.  She  says  she  believes  that  he  will  ex 
plode  some  time  and  blow  England  clear  through  the 
Soudan." 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  over  Miss  Scher- 
merhorn's  head,  and  then  fixed  their  eyes  on  Rose's 
steamer-chair. 

"  Isn't  it  rather  unusual  for  a  young  woman  to  take 
such  an  interest  in — er — such  things  ?"  asked  Carteret. 

Lida  shook  her  head  vehemently. 

"  Not  for  Rose.  She  is  the  only  girl  I  ever  knew  in 
my  life  who  was  really  educated,  and  yet  she  never  went 
to  school  more  than  two  or  three  years  in  her  life.  She 
comes  of  army  people — her  mother,  I  mean,  for  her  fa 
ther  never  has  counted  any  in  her  life,  and  certainly 
never  in  her  education,  although  he  is  not  particularly 
discreditable,  only  hopelessly  Western,  but  Rose's  grand 
father  was  Colonel  Emory  Hope,  and  her  two  uncles  and 
her  great-grandfather,  and  so  on,  clear  back  to  nowhere, 
were  all  famous  officers,  as  Rose  says,  '  for  achieve 
ment.'  Rose  really  ought  to  have  been  a  man.  She 
would  have  been  as  fine  as  Shirley,  and  as  brave.  She 
says,  after  all,  that  Trilby's  code  was  a  good  one, '  Never 
to  tell  a  lie,  and  never  to  be  afraid.'  We  women  are  all 
rather  mean  at  bottom.  I  know  /  am." 

Carteret  laughed  in  an  embarrassed  way.  This 
astonishing  American  frankness  disconcerted  him. 
Townshend  looked  again  at  Rose.  Shirley  was  sitting 
beside  her  and  holding  her  rugs  in  place. 

"  I  don't  know  that  this  will  touch  you  as  it  did  me," 
Lida  went  on,  "  but  the  key-note  to  Rose's  inheritance 
is  her  patriotism.  She  told  me  that  her  mother  was  the 
only  girl  in  their  family  for  three  generations — all  the 
children  had  been  boys,  all  had  been  in  the  army,  and 
all  killed  in  battle.  And  she  said  her  mother's  one  wish 
was  to  be  buried  wrapped  in  the  flag,  as  they  were.  And 
so  they  carried  out  her  wish.  Does  that  touch  you  ?" 

74 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  It  gives  me  a  better  idea  of  why  Miss  Hollenden's 
patriotism  goes  so  deep,"  answered  Townshend. 

"  Deep  \"  answered  Lida  Schermerhorn.  "  It  goes 
from  ancestry  back  to  atavism,  and  from  atavism  to 
protoplasm,  and  has  its  cube  root  in  infinity — that's 
where  it  springs  from  I" 

Townshend  and  Carteret  bowed  as  the  Frenchman 
passed  the  little  party  of  three. 

"  Who  is  that?    Do  tell  me!"  said  Miss  Schermerhorn. 

"  That  is  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil — the  man  you  nearly 
put  an  end  to  yesterday." 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault,"  answered  Miss  Schermerhorn, 
imperturbably.  "  I  have  my  eye  on  him,  and  I  want 
you  to  present  him  to  me  the  first  opportunity  you  have. 
I'll  tell  you  why  later." 

"  But  1  don't  know  him,"  said  Townshend.  Town- 
shend's  manner  told  the  other  man  that  he  knew  him 
too  well. 

"  Then  get  acquainted  with  him  !  In  the  smoking- 
room  it  will  be  easy." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Shirley  ?    He  knows  him." 

"  I  don't  want  to  ask  Shirley.     I  have  asked  you." 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  it  !     Shall  I  go  now  ?" 

*  Yes,  if  you  will  first  take  me  over  to  Rose,  or  tell 
Shirley  to  come  here." 

"  You  can't  walk.     Will  you  let  me  carry  you  ?" 

"  Oh  no.     With  all  these  old  Tabbies  on  board  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  any  Tabbies  out  to-day,"  said  Town 
shend. 

"  Do  you  see  that  row  of  fat  men  between  Rose's  chair 
and  mine  ?  Well,  those  are  the  husbands  of  the  Tab 
bies,  and,  on  shipboard,  what  one  knows  the  other  does." 

"  You  are  a  very  clever  young  woman,"  said  Town 
shend. 

"  I  haven't  crossed  the  ocean  sixteen  times  for  noth 
ing,"  answered  the  girl,  beckoning  to  Shirley. 

75 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

He  left  his  sister  instantly  and  came  over. 

"  Shirley,  I've  twisted  my  ankle — " 

"  Again  ?"  said  Shirley,  with  a  look  of  concern. 

"  Yes,  wasn't  it  stupid  of  me  !  But  Mr.  Townshend 
and  Sir  Arthur  got  me  to  this  chair,  and  now  I  want  to 
see  Rose." 

"  Well,  Rose  was  just  asking  for  you,  as  I  have  prom 
ised  to  play  cards  with  your  Frenchman.  Townshend, 
won't  you  and  Carteret  join  us  ?" 

"  Certainly  they  will/'  said  Miss  Schermerhorn.  "  They 
were  just  dying  for  an  excuse  to  smoke." 

"  Now  then,  little  person,  which  foot  is  it  ?"  said  Shir 
ley.  "  Hold  still,  I'm  going  to  carry  you.  It  will  be 
easier  that  way." 

"  Oh  no,  Shirley  !  What  do  you  suppose — wait,  you'll 
break  my  glasses  !  No,  Shirley,  really,  I  am  in  earnest ! 
What  do  you  think  people — well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Town 
shend  !" 


CHAPTER  VII 

MR.  HOLLENDEN  was  smoking  and  talking  to  Cap 
tain  Corcoran,  the  new  United  States  Military  Attache 
at  Paris,  who  was  going  over  to  have  a  week  in  London 
before  his  chief  arrived,  when  Townshend  and  Carteret 
entered,  closely  followed  by  Shirley  and  the  Marquis 
d'Auteuil. 

The  marquis  laid  his  hand  on  Shirley's  arm. 

"  Will  you  present  me  to  your  father  ?" 

Shirley  complied,  and  Mr.  Hollenden  received  the  in 
troduction  seated.  He  held  out  his  hand,  however,  and 
the  marquis  grasped  it  cordially. 

Mr.  Hollenden  was  a  short,  globular  person,  with 
white  hair,  a  red  face,  and  no  eyebrows  nor  eyelashes  to 
speak  of.  He  wore  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses,  which  he 
continually  removed  from  his  nose  in  order  to  tap  them 
upon  his  waistcoat. 

"  Sit  down  !  Sit  down,  gentlemen  !  Waiter,  take 
these  gentlemen's  orders  !  What  are  you  going  to  have, 
captain  ?" 

"  I  think  I  shall  have  another  Scotch  high-ball." 

"  And  you,  Carteret  ?" 

"  Brandy  and  soda,  please." 

"  And  you,  marquis  ?" 

"  A  little  absinthe,  if  you  please." 

"  And  you,  Townshend  ?" 

"  A  Plymouth  gin- sour." 

"  Nothing  better  as  an  appetizer !  And  you,  Shirley?" 

77 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Dry  Martini  cocktail,  father,  with  an  olive  in  it." 

"  Vile  things,  cocktails,  but  I  think  I'll  have  a  Man 
hattan  myself,  as  dinner  is  not  far  off." 

The  Frenchman  listened  in  amazement  to  these  orders. 
He  had  seen  these  Americans  order  and  drink  a  similar 
assortment  all  day  long,  and  all  yesterday.  They  in 
turn  looked  upon  his  meek  little  absinthe  with  some 
thing  like  horror.  When  a  man  drinks  absinthe,  even 
once  a  day  regularly,  most  Americans  think  that  he  has 
arrived  at  the  jumping-off  place. 

"  So  you  know  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden, 
lighting  a  fresh  cigar  with  the  match  the  marquis  held 
for  him.  He  noticed  the  little  attention,  and  saw  in 
stantly  from  his  Western  point  of  view,  sharpened  by  the 
knowledge  that  he  was  not  like  the  men  and  women  his 
children  knew,  that  these  trifles  went  to  make  up  the 
polished  whole  that  Maria  was  always  writing  about. 
He  was  torn  between  his  genuine  Western  idea  that 
courtesy  between  men  was  effeminate  and  his  tre 
mendous  respect  for  Maria's  titled  friends.  But  he  had 
also  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  French  as  a  nation,  and  he 
had  caused  Maria  to  be  shadowed  by  a  series  of  watchful 
duennas,  who  stood  her  insane  temper  as  long  as  they 
could,  and  then  fled  in  disorder,  tempted  by  no  salary, 
no  persuasions,  to  bear  her  petty  meannesses  with  mon 
ey,  and  her  ungoverned  nature. 

Mr.  Hollenden  had  never  allowed  Maria  to  know  how 
his  wealth  was  increasing.  He  never  knew  what  she 
would  do.  He  feared  her  as  if  she  were  a  partially  tamed 
panther,  who  ought  to  be  in  a  cage,  and  yet  who  was  al 
lowed  to  roam  the  house,  held  only  by  a  slender  chain, 
in  which  he  had  no  particular  faith.  Her  bitter  quar 
rels  with  all  his  friends  had  driven  him  from  his  home, 
and  now  her  imperious  will  was  asserted  to  bring  him 
to  Europe.  Her  letters  had  been  subtly  poisoning  him 
for  years.  They  were  filled  with  suggestions  and  com- 

78 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

parisons  between  France  and  America.  His  old  friends 
were  caricatured,  and  sketches  made  of  the  new  ones 
she  was  making  —  particularly,  he  remembered,  with 
crazed  descriptions  of  the  family  whose  son  was  now 
before  him.  His  instincts  were  so  sure  in  business  that 
this  social  uncertainty  worried  him  sadly.  He  resolved 
to  understand  things,  if  possible,  and  to  get  at  the  dif 
ferences  whose  shadowy  shapes  eluded  him  so  bafflingly. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  America  ?" 

The  marquis  sighed  patiently.  He  had  answered 
this  question  many  hundreds  of  times.  It  seemed  the 
open  sesame  to  all  conversations  in  America.  He  was 
positive  that  not  a  man  or  woman  whom  he  had  met 
had  omitted  to  ask  it  at  least  once,  and  some  asked  it 
every  time  they  saw  him.  By  sad  experience  he  had 
learned  not  to  criticise  it  unfavorably. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  country — "  he  began,  as  usual,  but 
Mr.  Hollenden  interrupted  him. 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean,  how  do  you  find  us  as 
a  nation  differing  from  yours  T 

As  the  marquis  looked  at  the  successful  American  be 
fore  him,  who  sat  tapping  the  third  button  of  his  waist 
coat  with  his  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses,  something  gave 
the  Frenchman  the  idea  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  an 
swer  the  question  honestly.  It  is  a  rare  privilege  for  a 
foreigner,  as  thousands  of  unhappy  Englishmen  can 
bear  witness. 

"  You  wish  me  to  speak  of  social  matters  ?" 

"Quite  so." 

The  man  came  with  the  drinks  just  then,  and  for  a 
moment  all  were  busy  trying  them.  Mr.  Hollenden 
left  his  standing,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  blowing 
clouds  of  smoke  into  the  air. 

"  Well,  society  means  women,  and  it  is  in  the  women 
that  I  find  the  greatest  difference." 

"  And  an  American  woman  in  Paris  finds  the  greatest 

79 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

difference  in  the  men,"  said  Captain  Corcoran,  who  had 
been  in  the  diplomatic  service  before. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  the  marquis.  "  But  here,  mon 
Dieu  !  What  surprises  !  To  be  sure,  I  had  been  told 
by  my  friends  who  had  been  over  here,  and  I  believed 
them  at  the  time.  But  it  was  impossible  to  act  upon 
their  advice.  It  upset  the  experience  of  a  lifetime." 

"  So  you  came  a  cropper,  did  you  ?"  asked  Shirley, 
with  a  grin. 

"  Oh,  many  of  them.  The  worst  one  was  in  Denver. 
Imagine  it !  I  was  invited  to  spend  a  week  with  a  gen 
tleman  who  had  been  a  warm  friend  of  the  Marquis  de 
Mores,  and  who  had  a  very  pretty  daughter.  One  even 
ing  she  suggested  that  we  go  to  the  theatre.  I  acqui 
esced,  and,  to  my  horror,  I  found  that  we  were  to  go 
alone.  I  spoke  to  her  father,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  un 
derstand.  He  said,  '  Oh,  that's  all  right.  Mary  will 
put  you  through/  Then  it  was  my  turn  not  to  under 
stand.  I  did  not  know  what  Mary  would  put  me  through. 
I  was  soon  destined  to  know.  To  my  further  embar 
rassment,  I  found  that  we  were  to  go  in  her  father's 
brougham.  She  got  in  without  any  hesitation,  I  followed, 
the  door  slammed,  it  was  quite  dark,  there  we  were  !'* 

"  Well  ?"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Well.  It  was  dark.  Of  course — no  man  could  re 
sist  it — I  kissed  her  !  And  she — what  do  you  think 
she  did  !  She  slapped  me  in  the  face  with  her  bare  hand. 
Slapped  my  face,  gentlem.cn  !  What  do  you  think  of 
that  ?" 

Mr.  Hollenden  roared.  The  other  men  only  smiled. 
They  realized  how  easily  the  girl  had  got  off. 

"  Didn't  she  say  anything  ?" 

"  Yes ;  she  said  she'd  teach  me  how  to  treat  a  lady." 

"  Oh,  my  God  !"  cried  Captain  Corcoran. 

"  That's  like  a  Denver  girl,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  re 
membering  episodes  in  his  early  days  there. 

80 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  The  most  surprising  thing  about  it  was  that  she  had 
flirted  most  outrageously  with  me  before  that.  What 
could  she  have  expected  a  man  to  do  ?" 

"  How,  flirted  ?"  asked  Townshend. 

"  She  had  lunched  with  me,  had  allowed  me  to  go 
shopping  with  her;  I  had  bought  that  vile  stuff  to  drink — 
how  do  you  call  him? — soda-water,  with  ice-cream  in 
it.  Mon  Dieu !  she  could  drink  quarts  of  it !  We  had 
played  tennis  together ;  but,  more  than  all,  it  was  her 
gay  talk,  the  look  in  her  eyes,  her  free  manner,  at  once 
an  invitation  and  a  challenge.  1  could  not  believe  that  I 
was  not  with  my  little  friend  in  Paris — my  Lili — except 
that  1  kept  repeating  to  myself,  '  But  she  is  not.  You 
are  speaking  English.  There  are  not  the  Boulevards. 
She  is  not  Lili.  She  is  an  American  girl/  But,  after 
all,  she  had  not  any  of  what  we  call  temperament,  and 
her  rebuff  was  quite  sincere.  I  was  disappointed.  But 
your  married  women  are  worse." 

"  How,  worse  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  They  are  quite  as  difficult  as  the  young  girls.  It  is 
impossible  to  succeed  with  them.  I  suppose  it  is  be 
cause,  with  you,  marriages  are  of  inclination.  In  my 
country  it  is  different." 

"  Very  different,"  said  Captain  Corcoran. 

"  Suppose  a  fine  young  Russian,  let  us  say,  should  go 
to  Paris  with  letters,  and  should  take  a  fancy  to  a  young 
French  girl.  What  then  ?"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Her  people  would  see  to  it  that  he  proposed  marriage 
before  she  ever  saw  him  alone  for  one  moment." 

"  But  suppose  an  accident  happened  that  no  one  in 
tended,  and  they  were  alone,  then  what  ?" 

The  marquis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  cannot  say.  Either  marriage  afterwards  or  a 
duel.  In  any  case,  disgrace  for  the  young  girl." 

"  Then  if  he  had  allowed  himself  to  become  interested 
in  a  married  woman  ?" 

F  81 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Ah,  that  would  be  plain  sailing  !  She  would  be 
clever." 

"  Is  cleverness  everything  ?" 

"  No,  one  must  love.  But  with  us  love  is  cultivated. 
It  is  in  the  blood.  It  is  in  the  air.  It  is  our  inheritance 
for  hundreds  of  years.  It  is  given  to  our  women  as  well 
as  to  us.  Sometimes  they  fight  against  it  for  a  time, 
but  end  by  being  unfaithful  to  their  husbands.  Some 
times  they  have  widowhood  for  an  excuse.  Sometimes 
they  yield  and  live  !" 

"  And  he  calls  it  love,"  said  Shirley  to  Carteret,  in  an 
undertone. 

The  marquis  caught  the  last  word. 

"  Love  ?  Ah,  yes !  It  must  be  love.  Love  excuses 
everything.  And  everything  is  forgiven  except  stupid 
ity.  That  is  Paris." 

He  remembered  that  he  was  speaking  to  Americans. 

"  But  of  course  Paris  is  not  France,  and  Parisians  are 
not  the  French  nation.  In  our  small  towns  and  the 
provinces  we  have  the  bourgeoisie,  the  bone  and  the 
sinew  of  the  nation,  who  often  marry  from  inclination, 
and  where  the  wives  are  faithful  to  their  husbands." 

"  How  about  the  husbands  being  faithful  to  their 
wives  ?" 

"  Sometimes  even  that  is  the  case.  I  have  heard  of 
instances." 

Townshend  looked  at  Mr.  Hollenden's  embarrassed 
face  and  smiled. 

"  Everything  depends  upon  the  point  of  view,"  said 
Captain  Corcoran.  "  But  it  takes  Americans  forever  to 
learn  that.  They  never  do  learn  it,  in  fact.  It  is  only  to 
be  learned  in  the  Faubourg  St. -Germain.  Americans  can 
only  really  penetrate  there  by  marriage,  and  even  then 
they  are  never  received  into  the '  Holy  of  Holies/  There 
are  Star  Chamber  Sessions  held  right  under  their  very 
eyes,  and  yet  they  cannot  see  it.  They  can  only  feel 

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it,  perhaps.  But  the  fashionable  Faubourgs  say  to  an 
American, '  Between  me  and  thee,  there  is  a  great  gulf 
fixed/ " 

"  Nonsense  !"  said  Townshend.     "  Nonsense  !" 

The  marquis  half-way  closed  his  eyes  and  sipped  his 
absinthe  to  hide  a  queer  little  smile  which  sent  the  ends  of 
his  mustache  upwards. 

Mr.  Hollenden  saw  it,  and  in  turn  retired  behind 
clouds  of  smoke,  while  the  marquis  said,  guilelessly  : 

"  Ah,  no,  my  dear  captain  !  The  position  of  an  Ameri 
can  woman  who  succeeds  in  penetrating  into  the  Fau 
bourg  St.-Germain  is  very  enviable.  There  are  titles 
there  which  were  old  when  some  of  the  most  envied  Eng 
lish  titles — so-called,  old — were  created.  There  exists 
nowhere  on  earth  a  finer  courtesy  than  in  my  country, 
and  one's  courtesy  to  one's  wife,  even  if  she  were  an 
American,  would  be  unfailing." 

"  They  are  fine  old  titles,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  "  but  I 
suppose  one  of  them  could  not  be  secured  by  an  Ameri 
can  girl,  no  matter  how  pretty,  without  a  large  dowry  ?" 

The  marquis's  eyes  glistened. 

"  Indeed  no.  Most  emphatically  no.  And  the  older 
the  title,  the  larger  the  dot  must  be." 

Mr.  Hollenden  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table  and 
looked  quizzically  at  the  Frenchman,  and  said,  albeit 
with  a  blush  : 

"  But  on  the  question  of  faithfulness  to  the  wife,  which 
we  were  just  discussing.  We  Americans  dare  not  go 
about  it  so  openly.  The  women  won't  stand  it.  With 
us  it  is  generally  a  question  of  a  lower  class.  With  you 
it  is  among  equals." 

The  other  men  looked  at  each  other  over  the  Western 
er's  head. 

"  How  would  an  international  marriage  stand  the 
strain  ?" 

The  marquis  was  amazed  at  the  ease  with  which  he 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

was  handling  this  mining  king.  It  was  the  American 
who  had  broached  the  subject,  and  who  was  thus  forcing 
it  into  such  close  quarters. 

"  Ah,  as  to  that,  you  do  not  understand.  A  French 
nobleman  might  dishonor  the  wife  he  respected,  but 
never  the  woman  who  had  enriched  him !" 

"  Ah,  I  see  !"  said  the  Nevada  miner.  "  Money,  then, 
is  the  basis  of  French  honor." 

"Ah,  no!"  exclaimed  the  marquis,  flushing.  "I  am 
afraid,  monsieur,  that  you  do  not  understand  French 
honor  !" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't !"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  bluntly. 

The  Frenchman  smoked  furiously.  His  fingers  itched 
to  hand  his  card  to  Mr.  Hollenden  and  provoke  a  duel. 
But  he  reflected  that  he  had  already  offered  battle  to  one 
member  of  the  family  yesterday.  It  would  not  do  to  seek 
a  quarrel  with  another  to-day. 

"  Money  !"  he  hissed,  at  last.  "  And  it  is  always  what 
you  Americans  talk  about !  Nothing  but  money  !" 

"  Yes,  we  do  talk  about  it,"  admitted  Mr.  Hollenden. 
"  We  Americans  always  talk  the  most  about  what  we 
care  the  least.  That's  why  we  talk  about  money,  and 
honor  love.  You  French  talk  about  love,  and  honor 
money  !" 

For  an  instant  the  marquis  glared  at  Mr.  Hollenden. 
Then  he  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed.  It  was  not 
a  pretty  laugh.  His  eye-teeth  were  pointed,  and  his 
mustaches  were  pointed.  His  laugh  brought  lines 
into  his  face,  which  were  not  reassuring.  Neverthe 
less,  Captain  Corcoran  and  Townshend  were  glad  to  hear 
it.  At  least  it  assured  them  of  peace.  They,  repre 
senting  simply  the  diplomatic  and  social,  must  needs 
be  civil  even  to  a  Parisian's  vices.  It  was  only  Mr. 
Hollenden's  fat  little  check-book  which  could  afford  to 
be  insolent. 

Townshend  and  Shirley  found  themselves  pacing 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  deck  together  soon  after  this  conversation.  Town- 
shend  liked  the  young  fellow — he  had  such  an  air  of 
strength,  and,  withal,  he  seemed  so  clean  and  fresh. 

"  French  thoughts  sound  so  unspeakably  vulgar  and 
underbred  when  put  into  English,"  said  Shirley,  giving 
himself  a  shake  like  a  big  Newfoundland.  "  One  looks 
for  them  in  the  French  language — they  sort  of  belong — 
but  in  English — " 

"  In  English,"  said  Townshend,  knocking  the  ashes 
from  his  cigar  with  his  little  finger,  "  they  sound  as  the 
dining-room  looks  the  next  morning  after  a  champagne 
supper.  There  are  some  things  that  go  with  sunshine, 
and  that  is  English,  and  there  are  other  things  that  go 
with  artificial  light  and  orchids,  and  that  is  French. 
French  is  more  poetical  than  the  most  exquisite  Eng 
lish  ever  put  together.  You  never  can  get  the  artistic 
effect  of  poetry  as  you  can  in  French,  any  more  than 
you  can  feel  a  rhapsody  at  ten  o'clock  after  your  cold 
bath  and  your  ride  in  the  crisp  morning  air.  You  feel 
clean,  healthful,  energetic.  But  with  colored  candles  and 
silk  hangings,  and  all  the  accessories  which  turn  the 
natural  into  the  artificial — those  are  for  another  mood. 
And  yet,  say  what  you  may,  there  is  the  charm  about 
the  French  that  one  finds  in  all  things  which  are  com 
plete.  Their  culture  is,  without  doubt,  the  highest  which 
now  exists.  They  have  the  air  of  being  finished — pol 
ished  off,  quite  done,  as  it  were.  Not  that  they  have  stop 
ped  working  or  thinking  or  studying,  but  one  feels  with 
a  Frenchwoman  of  the  upper  classes  as  if  she  were  com 
plete.  As  if,  while  there  was  nothing  new  in  life  to  offer 
her  in  the  way  of  sensation  or  emotion,  as  if  she  had  ar 
rived  at  the  power  of  correct  selection,  and  that  from 
now  on  she  would  choose  what  she  cared  to  learn  as  an 
epicure  chooses  his  dishes — from  experience  in  what  to 
avoid.  The  American  woman's  mind  is  more  active, 
more  curious,  less  reposeful.  She  wants  to  know  it  all 

•  8; 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

— but  chiefly  because  the  great  book  of  human  life,  which 
the  women  of  all  other  nations  are  completely  mistress 
of,  has  been  closed  to  her  forever." 

"It  is  a  curious  thing,"  said  Shirley,  laughing,  "to 
hear  d'Auteuil  defend  the  French  at  the  expense 
of  all  Paris.  He  says  that  Paris  is  not  France  ;  that 
the  temptations  are  too  great  there  to  be  resisted  ;  that 
in  the  small  towns,  where  are  the  bone  and  sinew  of 
France,  there  exist  happy  marriages  and  faithful  hus 
bands  and  wives.  I  wonder  how  it  would  sound  if,  at 
the  Jockey  Club,  I  should  defend  American  morality, 
American  chastity,  by  saying,  '  But,  my  dear  d'Auteuil, 
you  must  remember  that  New  York  and  Chicago  are 
not  America.  To  be  sure,  the  temptations  there  are  so 
great  that  we  have  virtually  no  morality  among  the  up 
per  classes.  But  among  our  tradesmen,  and  in  Keokuk 
and  Milwaukee  and  Harlem,  there  you  will  find  happily 
married  people  and  faithful  husbands  and  honorable 
wives  !'  " 

Townshend  laughed. 

"  Perfectly  true,  yet  the  time  will  probably  come  when 
that  will  be  said  of  America.  You  must  remember  how 
young  we  are  yet.  All  older  civilizations  have  come  to 
it." 

Shirley  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't  believe  you,"  he  said.  "  It  sounds  almost  as 
if  you  were  to  say  it  about  your  sister  or  mine  !" 

"  Heaven  forbid  1  We  shall  all  be  dead  long  before 
that  time.  But  you  are  as  ardent  a  patriot  as  your 
sister.  How  does  it  come  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Shirley.  "  There  she  is.  You 
must  ask  her.  I  suppose  it  is  in  the  blood.  My  ances 
tors,  on  my  mother's  side,  have  been  in  the  army  ever 
since  there  was  one.  Before  that  they  were  in  the  Eng 
lish  army,  and  my  one  ambition  in  going  abroad  is  to 
see  the  French  army — the  army  of  Napoleon." 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

Townshend  laughed  as  the  two  seated  themselves  on 
each  side  of  Rose's  steamer-chair. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  fond  as  I  am  of  the  French,  I  warn 
you  not  to  build  too  much  upon  the  French  army.  In 
appearance  it  is  the  least  imposing  in  all  Europe.  The 
uniforms  of  the  men  are  generally  ill-fitting,  and  French 
men  are  all  small  in  size.  As  for  the  army  of  Napoleon 
— that  ended  with  Moscow." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said  Shirley.  "  I 
have  always  admired  the  French  for  their  fidelity.  I 
never  knew  of  anything  finer  than  the  way  they  honor 
their  brave  dead.  You  know  that  in  the  case  of  La- 
tour,  the  First  Grenadier  of  France,  because  he  persist 
ently  refused  promotion,  after  countless  acts  of  bravery, 
leading  eight  thousand  grenadiers  in  the  army  of  the 
Pyrenees,  he  still  continued  to  wear  the  uniform  of  a 
captain.  His  corps  obtained  the  name  of  "  The  Infer 
nal  Column,"  on  account  of  its  deadly  bayonet  charges, 
and  for  all  these  things  Napoleon  gave  him  the  title  of 
the  First  Grenadier  of  France.  But  what  promotion 
and  what  rank  could  reward  his  bravery  as  completely 
as  the  custom  which  obtained  to  honor  his  memory  ? 
Each  morning,  until  the  close  of  the  empire,  at  the  mus 
ter-roll  of  his  regiment,  his  name  continued  to  be  called, 
and  the  oldest  sergeant  answered,  '  Dead  upon  the  field 
of  honor  !'  ' 

Rose  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Yes,  I  like  that,"  admitted  Townshend.  *  It  has  a 
fine  martial  ring.  But  I  strongly  incline  to  the  impres 
sion  that  you  may  lay  that  to  the  French  sentiment 
rather  than  to  fidelity.  I  never  have  heard  them  com 
mended  for  that  virtue  before.  But  a  fine  and  tender 
sentiment — yes.  Many  of  the  homely  qualities  Ameri 
cans  admire,  the  French  lack.  But  they  make  up  for 
it  in  the  quality  of  their  culture.  I  grow  so  irritated 
with  America,  and  the  crude  tastes  of  Americans,  when 

8? 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

I  come  home  for  my  brief  visits,  that  I  turn  with  relief 
and  love  to  a  country  which  reverences  art  as  she  should 
be  reverenced.  The  Anglo-Saxon,  as  a  race,  does  not 
need  art  from  an  inner  craving  which  must  be  satisfied. 
It  adopts  it  as  an  accessory.  The  Gallic  nations  need 
it,  as  they  need  bread.  If  you  should  turn  loose  a  few 
thousands  of  American  poor  in  Paris  or  Dresden,  you 
would  not  find  them,  even  on  free  days,  in  the  museums 
and  galleries.  Yet  in  America,  the  poor  of  the  Gallic 
and  Slavonic  nations  are  cheek  by  jowl  with  the  Ameri 
can  who  cannot  afford  to  -pay  the  entrance  fee.  In  Paris 
a  workman  in  his  blue  blouse  knows  the  name  of  the 
famous  picture  in  the  Salon,  and  who  painted  it,  and  to 
what  school  he  belongs.  He  understands  art  from 
within.  It  is  his  inheritance,  in  his  blood,  in  the  air  of 
Paris.  Nor  is  there  any  true  sentiment  in  the  American 
nature.  There  is  very  little  to  it  besides  a  love  of  trade, 
a  feminine  sentimentality,  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  ridic 
ulous." 

"  There  is  patriotism,"  said  Rose,  coloring. 

*  Pardon  me.  There  is  very  little  of  what  I  call  patri 
otism  in  America.  There  is  a  braggadocio  spirit  of 
feeling  that  we  can  '  lick  all  creation/  but  that  comes 
from  ignorance  of  the  strength  of  the  standing  armies  of 
Europe.  If  we  ever  '  lick  all  creation  '  it  will  be  at  an 
enormous  cost,  a  cost  so  great  that  we  cannot  estimate  it 
from  here,  because  we  have  practically  no  standing 
army  —  thirty-five  thousand  men  all  told  —  a  mere 
mouthful  for  Russia  or  Germany.  No,  American  so- 
called  patriotism  is  largely  American  conceit.  Patri 
otism  includes  loyalty  to  the  government,  loyalty  to  the 
army,  loyalty  to  the  Supreme  Court,  and  to  all  that  makes 
for  solidarity  and  the  country's  good.  But  for  love  of 
America  as  a  nation,  no,  there  is  little  of  the  true  spirit  of 
patriotism." 

"  Why  is  it,  do  you  think  ?"  asked  Shirley. 

88 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  don't  know  exactly.  I  think  it  is  because  all  the 
other  nations  are  expansionists,  and  we  have  never 
taken  any  part  in  the  East.  Then  we  are  so  far  away. 
We  are  safe  from  invasion,  and  we  never  have  aroused 
the  jealousy  of  other  nations.  We  do  not  need  an  army 
as  constantly  as  they.  And  then,  too,  our  army  is  so 
small,  it  is  never  before  the  eyes  of  the  people.  All  that 
the  people  know  of  the  army  is  a  paragraph  in  fine  print 
now  and  then  in  a  newspaper,  that  a  regiment  has 
changed  posts.  Our  officers  never  wear  their  uniforms, 
except  when  on  duty.  They  act  as  if  they  were  ashamed 
of  the  blue,  whereas  over  all  Europe  the  army  is  con 
stantly  before  the  eyes  of  the  people.  In  St.  Petersburg, 
Cairo,  Constantinople,  Berlin,  Vienna,  Warsaw,  Paris, 
and  London,  the  uniform  of  the  different  regiments  is 
the  most  familiar  sight  the  people  see.  It  is  no  enemy, 
as  our  tax-payers  regard  it ;  it  is  a  friend.  They  do 
not  stare  at  it  from  curiosity,  but  from  pride.  It  is  as  it 
should  be,  the  bulwark,  the  defence  of  the  nation,  and  it 
inspires  a  respect  which  is  unknown  in  the  mind  of  the 
average  American,  whose  stupidity  is  oftenest  voiced 
in  some  cheap  joke  about '  a  man  making  a  monkey  of 
himself  in  such  togs/  or  some  unworthy  sneer  at  the 
symbol  of  the  very  noblest  institution  our  country 
boasts. " 

"  It  is  the  ambition  of  my  life  to  enter  the  army,"  said 
Shirley  ;  "  but  for  some  reason  father  opposes  it,  and  he 
fidgets  and  won't  say  why  he  refuses.  I  want  to  study  the 
standing  armies  of  Europe.  1  want  to  see  the  English 
army  !" 

"  It  is  the  finest  in  the  world,"  answered  Townshend. 
"  I  am  not  weak  nor  emotional ;  but  when  I  see  the 
red  coats,  when  1  see  the  size,  the  cleanness,  the  pre 
cision,  the  whole  make-up  of  the  English  army,  some 
thing  makes  me  want  to  stand  up  and  take  my  hat  off. 
We  are  really  related,  you  know.  Then  the  pride  of  the 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

English  in  their  army  !  It  does  me  good  to  see  it.  As 
Miss  Schermerhorn  says  :  '  England  is  not  theatrical, 
she  is  dramatic/  You  think  Americans  are  patriotic. 
You  think  you  are  patriotic.  I  used  to  think  I  was  be 
fore  I  went  abroad  to  live.  But  I  have  come  to  know 
that  the  patriotism  of  England,  for  example,  is  of  such 
superior  texture,  that  ours  seems  theatrical  and  tawdry 
in  comparison.  There,  when  the  national  hymn  is  sung 
or  played,  every  English  man  and  woman  are  on  their 
feet  out  of  respect  to  their  country  and  respect  to  them 
selves.  At  Carlsbad  and  other  watering-places,  I  have 
seen  gouty  old  men  and  disabled  old  women  assisted  to 
their  feet  by  flunkeys  and  smart  maids,  when  it  was 
agony  to  stand.  Your  Englishman  lives  up  to  his  con 
victions.  The  Englishman  is  self  -  respecting ;  the 
American  is  self -boastful.  In  America  I  always  rise 
when  they  play  "  The  Star  Spangled  Banner."  And  in 
theatres  I  have  been  laughed  at  openly,  commented 
upon  rudely,  and  sometimes  insulted  for  an  act  of 
respect  to  my  country  and  to  my  flag — a  flag  that  every 
man  and  woman  there  pretended  to  love  and  respect. 
The  cheapness  of  the  American  mind,  their  fury  at  being 
taught  anything  by  the  older  civilizations  of  Europe, 
their  thin-skinned  hatred  of  advice,  their  stupid  self-suffi 
ciency  are  what  rankle  most  in  the  heart  of  a  man  who 
goes  abroad  in  the  true  spirit  of  progress  and  enlight 
enment.  Your  intelligent  man  is  appealed  to  by  those 
elements  in  a  constitutional  monarchy  which  make  for 
good  government.  But  if  he  comes  home  to  bring  the 
fruit  of  his  experience  to  his  own  country,  he  is  con 
fronted  by  such  a  living  wall  of  stupidity  and  conceit 
from  the  representatives  of  an  ignorant  and  self-satis 
fied  constituency  that  he  not  only  gives  up  in  despair, 
but  he  is  branded  as  an  Anglo  -  maniac,  a  traitor, 
and  his  stay  in  Europe  is  said  to  have  turned  his 
head. 

90 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  That  is  why  I  say  that  Americans  are  unpatriotic. 
They  could  show  their  love  of  country  in  many  better 
ways  than  in  mere  talk.  If,  for  instance,  when  we 
make  a  law,  we  would  make  one  that  we  were  willing  to 
live  up  to,  instead  of  immediately  hiring  a  shrewd  lawyer 
to  invent  a  way  to  get  around  it.  Everything  of  that 
sort  tends  to  make  us  unpatriotic.  We  regard  our  coun 
try  as  something  big  and  rich  from  which  we  must  wrest 
everything  we  can.  What  if  a  certain  policy  cripples 
her  ?  Who  cares  for  the  real  good  of  the  country  or 
sees  how  our  greed  is  undermining  our  national  char 
acter  ?  Only  a  few  public-spirited  men  and  a  few 
thoughtful  women.  But  the  rest — but  then,  the  whole 
thing  is  answered  in  this.  The  average  American 
doesn't  think  consecutively.  His  mind  is  like  a  toad. 
It  hops." 

"  Then,  according  to  you,  there  is  very  little  to  admire 
in  the  American  character  ?"  said  Shirley. 

Townshend  blew  a  fine  line  of  smoke  into  the  air. 

*  Wait  until  you  have  travelled  in  Europe  for  two 
years,  and  tell  me  your  own  opinion,"  he  said.  "  You 
will  have  sifted  things  by  that  time." 

Rose  shook  her  head  vehemently,  and  let  Shirley  pull 
her  out  of  her  steamer -chair.  She  looked  down  at 
Townshend  with  a  confused  feeling.  In  her  heart  she 
bitterly  resented  every  word  that  he  had  spoken  against 
the  perfectness  of  her  dear  America.  But  his  tone 
was  so  dispassionate,  his  manner  indicated  such  dig 
nified  grief  and  regret  at  being  obliged  to  speak  in 
such  dispraise,  that  the  American  girl's  clever  brain 
whispered,  vaguely,  "What  if  you,  too,  with  all 
your  fiery  love  of  country,  should  find  these  things 
true  ?" 

But  as  yet  the  point  of  view  was  too  new  to  her,  and 
her  confidence  in  Townshend's  purity  of  judgment  too 
insecure  to  permit  her  to  face  the  possibility. 

91 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Good-bye  to  the  man  who  does  not  love  his  own 
country,"  she  said,  as  she  moved  away. 

Townshend  made  no  reply. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Shirley,  "  that  he  does  not  love 
it  better  than  any  of  us." 


.   CHAPTER  VIII. 

WHEN  Maria  Hollenden  descended  from  her  carriage 
it  was  already  dark,  and  the  concierge  had  closed  the 
huge  door  of  number  ninety-nine.  The  woman  grum 
bled  aloud  when  she  saw  who  it  was,  for  Maria  was  no 
favorite  with  servants.  But  for  once  Maria  did  not 
answer  her.  She,  like  most  Americans,  waged  a  per 
petual  war  with  all  concierges,  with  the  result  that  she 
got  imposed  upon  and  cheated  and  annoyed  more  than 
any  other  occupant  of  the  apartments. 

"  The  Burgundy  came  to-day,  mademoiselle,"  said 
Lucie,  sullenly,  as  Maria  stopped  at  her  door  to  ask  for 
letters.  "  Shall  I  send  it  up  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maria. 

"All  of  it,  mademoiselle?" 

"  No,  keep  one  bottle  for  yourself  !"  snapped  Maria. 

"  One  bottle,  Jacques  !  Mademoiselle  says  we  are  to 
have  one  bottle  from  the  case  of  Burgundy  !  Mon  Dieu  t 
How  fine  it  must  be  to  be  rich  and  able  to  give  !" 

But  Maria,  after  ordering  a  twenty-thousand-dollar 
communion  service,  felt  anything  but  rich.  Her  knees 
trembled  a  little  as  she  wondered  'what  she  would  do 
should  her  father  refuse  her  the  money.  She  never  had 
asked  for  so  large  a  sum  before.  To  be  sure,  she  could 
sell  some  of  her  stocks  and  pay  for  it  herself  if  worst 
came  to  worst.  She  was  a  shrewd  financier  and  her 
allowance  had  always  been  liberal. 

"  Is  that  all,  mademoiselle  ?"  said  the  concierge,  as 
Maria  still  hesitated.  The  blazing  fire  in  the  pretty 

93 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

room  looked  warm  and  cheerful  through  the  glass 
walls.  Maria's  entresol  was  not  nearly  so  inviting  as 
this  little  corner  where  Madame  Lucie  lived — and  lived 
on  the  fat  of  the  land,  too.  Her  daughter  was  one  of  the 
most  notorious  women  of  Paris,  and  no  one  was  more 
proud  of  her  profession  than  this  same  respectably 
married  concierge  of  the  apartment  owned  by  the  Com- 
tesse  de  Brissy. 

"  I  understood  you  to  say  just  one  bottle  of  Burgundy, 
did  I  not,  mademoiselle?" 

"  Out  of  the  twelve  ?  1  should  think  you  did  \"  cried 
Maria.  "  Or  would  you  like  to  keep  eleven  and  let  me 
have  one  ?" 

"  No,  no,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  woman.  "  Certain 
ly  one  is  plenty.  And  thank  you  a  thousand  times. 
There  are  no  letters  to-day,  mademoiselle.  Good- 
evening." 

She  cast  a  vindictive  look  after  Maria's  curious  little 
figure. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu  I  What  a  shape  !  And  my  Lili  so 
pretty  !  What  arms  !  What  a  bust !  Ah,  it  is  better 
to  be  poor  sometimes,  when  one  looks  in  the  glass.  She 
shall  not  have  the  letters  which  came  to-day  nor  the 
cards  which  came  yesterday.  1  burn  the  cards  —  so! 
I  will  read  the  letters  before  I  burn  them.  Ah,  how  dis 
gusting  !  Two  of  them  are  in  English.  Those  I  will 
ask  Madame  Flamont's  maid  to  read  to  me.  She  speaks 
English.  This  one — ah,  it  means  nothing.  And  this 
— well,  this  one  I  will  save.  It  may  be  useful  to  Lili. 
Think  of  it !  Only  one  bottle  of  Burgundy  !  And 
what  a  fright  she  is  !  The  good  God  avenged  all  of  us 
upon  her  when  He  made  her.  Yet  Clemence  tells  me 
that  she  wears  beautiful  lingerie.  For  what  purpose  ? 
No  one  ever  sees  it !  Ah,  the  good  God  must  laugh  at 
her  for  spending  her  money  on  lingerie.  He  knows  it 
is  all  wasted." 

94 


Maria,  still  too  much  dazed  by  the  events  of  the  after 
noon  to  notice  the  black  looks  of  the  concierge,  slowly 
mounted  the  stairs  and  rang  the  bell  of  her  entresol. 

The  butler  opened  the  door,  and  her  dog,  a  hideous 
Mexican  hairless  dog,  ran  to  meet  her.  She  caught  the 
little  beast  up  and  kissed  him  over  and  over  again.  It  is 
a  risk  when  even  a  pretty  woman  owns  a  repulsive,  hair 
less  creature  like  that  for  a  pet.  But  when  Maria  Hol- 
lenden  held  Bijou  up  to  her  own  face,  even  her  servants 
coughed  behind  their  hands. 

"  I  shall  not  come  to  the  table,  Louis.  Tell  Clemence 
to  come  to  me  at  once,  and  bring  my  dinner  to  my 
boudoir." 

Clemence  was  maid,  housekeeper,  confidential  servant, 
even  a  sort  of  friend  to  the  lonely  woman.  She  was 
slow-moving,  heavy,  and  substantial.  But  she  had  the 
grace  not  to  hate  her  mistress,  as  the  other  servants  did. 
She  knew  mademoiselle's  good  traits,  and  she  forgave 
her  temper. 

"Clemence,"  said  Miss  Hollenden,  slowly  —  "Clem 
ence,  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world  has  hap 
pened.  The  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world." 

She  twisted  her  hands  together  and  walked  up  and 
down  her  tiny  bedchamber,  with  her  nervous,  jerky 
step,  like  a  walking  doll,  one  of  whose  springs  is  out  of 
order.  Clemence  crossed  her  hands  over  her  capacious 
stomach  and  watched  her  in  attentive  silence. 

"  I  would  never  have  dreamed  it,  and  yet  my  common- 
sense  tells  me  it  is  true.  I  remember  how  he  used  to 
watch  me  at  Vrianault.  I  seemed  to  fascinate  him.  I 
have  noticed  that  I  often  have  that  power  over  men. 
They  always  watch  me — they  watch  everything  I  do. 
But  with  him,  perhaps  because  I  loved  him  so,  I  never 
dared  think  that  it  was  anything  except  the  fascination 
which  American  girls  have  for  most  foreign  men.  I 
dared  not  think  he  loved  me.  But  he  did  1  He  does  ! 

95 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

And  yet  it  is  a  miracle,  after  all.  Clemence,  Clemence, 
listen  to  me.  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil  has  proposed  for 
my  hand." 

"  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil,  mademoiselle  1"  gasped 
Clemence.  "  Poor  soul !"  she  muttered,  under  her  breath. 
But  with  all  the  Frenchwoman's  tact  she  came  forward 
at  once  and  offered  her  congratulations. 

With  these,  her  first  congratulations,  a  sudden  gro 
tesque  coquetry  seemed  to  descend  upon  Maria.  She 
tossed  her  head  and  hopped  backwards  from  her  maid  s 
outstretched  hand. 

"  You  are  congratulating  me  !  So  you  think  I  mean 
to  take  him  ?  You  are  sure  I  intend  to  jump  at  the  first 
chance  I  ever  had  ?  Why,  Clemence  1  How  do  you 
know  but  that  I  shall  refuse  him  ?" 

"  Refuse  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  !"  cried  Clemence. 
"You!" 

"And  why  not,  pra\7  ?"  said  Maria,  bridling  and  thrust 
ing  out  her  little  thin  form.  "  I  am  not  so  old  and  ugly 
that  I  may  not  have  another  !  And  then,  with  my  father 
coming  over,  we  shall  set  up  an  establishment,  and  1 
shall  have  more  position  and  go  more  into  society.  That 
may  bring  me  offers." 

"  But  is  not  your  young  sister  coming  also  ?"  asked 
Clemence,  shrewdly.  "A  young  and  beautiful  sister  is 
no  advantage  to  the  older  one." 

"  But  she  is  not  beautiful !"  cried  Maria,  stamping  her 
foot  and  growing  purple  in  the  face.  "  The  Comtesse 
de  Brissy  said  she  had  no  cachet  whatsoever." 

"  She  has  the  making  of  a  beauty,  and  once  in  Paris — 
wait,  mademoiselle  1"  answered  the  Frenchwoman,  omi 
nously. 

Maria  seized  Rose's  photograph,  sent  two  years  ago, 
and  examined  it  eagerly.  She  had  lived  too  long  in  the 
artistic  atmosphere  of  Europe  not  to  recognize,  in  spite 
of  her  consuming  jealousy,  that  her  sister's  face  was 

96 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

one  of  extraordinary  beauty — a  little  too  thin,  perhaps, 
a  little  too  innocent  of  the  world,  but  beautiful  beyond  a 
doubt.  Maria  loved  beauty  above  everything.  Except 
that  her  whole  nature  was  perverted  and  her  tastes  de 
cadent  from  having  temperament  but  insufficient  brain 
to  build  upon,  she  would  have  made  an  artist  in  criti 
cism  at  least. 

As  it  was,  she  allowed  prejudice  to  sway  her  judgment 
to  such  an  extent  that  the  intelligent  sometimes  thought 
her  feeble-minded. 

"  You  are  entirely  wrong,  Clemence,"  she  said,  putting 
the  photograph  upside-down  behind  the  clock. 

Clemence  was  not  a  Frenchwoman  for  nothing.  She 
knew  Maria  Hollenden  as  no  one  else  on  earth  knew 
her.  She  knew  that  while  her  mistress  never  was 
known  to  admit  that  she  was  in  the  wrong,  she  often 
acted  upon  advice  which  she  apparently  spurned. 

Clemence  said  no  more,  but  busied  herself  laying  the 
dinner  which  Louis  brought  to  the  door. 

"  Dinner  is  served,  mademoiselle,"  said  Clemence. 

"  I  cannot  eat  1  Take  it  away,"  said  Maria,  throwing 
herself  upon  the  bed. 

Suddenly  she  sprang  up.  She  had  not  signified  to 
the  comtesse  that  she  would  accept  Raoul !  She  had,  in 
fact,  said  nothing.  What  must  they  think  of  her  ? 

"Clemence!"  she  cried;  "order  the  brougham  for 
nine  o'clock,  and  bring  me  my  pale-blue  crepe  dinner- 
gown.  You  must  go  with  me  to  call  upon  the  Marquise 
d'Auteuil." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  just  as  the  comtesse  was 
folding  the  letter  from  her  brother,  the  butler  entered 
and  asked  if  the  ladies  were  receiving.  Mademoiselle 
Hollenden  had  called. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  suppose  so !"  answered  the  comtesse.  "  Ma- 
man,  you  must  remain  and  see  her.     Remember  Vria- 
nault  1     We  must  dissemble.     Ah,  my  dear  Maria !" 
G  97 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

She  offered  her  cheek,  and  Maria  kissed  first  one  and 
then  the  other.  The  marquise  held  her  hand  out  stiffly 
at  arm's -length.  Maria  always  spoke  in  French  to 
them,  much  to  their  annoyance.  They  would  have  pre 
ferred  practising  their  English. 

"I  came/'  said  Maria, nervously  pulling  off  her  gloves, 
"  to  offer  my  apologies  for  not  answering  you  properly 
this  afternoon,  when  you — when  you — " 

"  When  I  made  you  the  offer  of  Raoul's  hand,"  said 
the  comtesse,  kindly. 

Maria  blushed  and  looked  at  her  gratefully.  The 
cruel  pale-blue  crepe  clung  wickedly  close  to  her  shrunk 
en  figure,  and  revealed  its  hollows  with  all  the  deprav 
ity  of  a  Jersey  bathing-suit. 

The  comtesse  looked  at  Maria's  shrivelled  brown 
hands  and  thought  with  a  shudder  of  her  brother's, 
and  of  the  horror  his  beauty-loving  soul  would  experi 
ence  with  such  a  fright  for  a  wife. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  not  know  that  I  meant  to — 
to  accept  him." 

"  Mademoiselle  was  afraid  we  would  not  know  that 
she  meant  to  accept  him,  maman  !"  said  the  comtesse. 

The  marquise  said,  in  her  throaty  voice  : 

"  It  was  well  amiable  of  you  to  come  and  relieve  our 
minds." 

*  Naturally  we  were  anxious,  were  we  not,  maman  ?" 

"  Very." 

"  But  Raoul  declares  mademoiselle  to  be  full  of  amia 
ble  ways.  He  said  so  in  his  last  letter." 

"  You  have  had  a  letter  recently  ?  He  spoke  of  me  ? 
May  I  see  it  ?" 

"  Indeed  you  may  not.  It  would  frighten  you  by  its 
vehemence.  I  never  heard  my  brother  use  such  ardent 
language  about  any  one  as  he  does  about  you." 

Maria  bridled. 

"  1  knew  he  loved  me,"  she  said. 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Eh  ?"  said  the  marquise,  sitting  up  in  her  chair. 

"  And  how  did  you  know  that  ?"  asked  the  comtesse. 

"  I  could  tell  it  by  the  way  he  watched  me  at  Vria- 
nault  and  by  the  look  in  his  eyes.  You  know  you  can 
always  tell  so  much  more  by  the  look  in  men's  eyes  than 
by  what  they  say.  Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Well,  no,  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  said  the  comtesse. 
"  I  think,  in  matters  of  marriage,  it  is  just  as  well  to 
have  a  man  put  it  in  words,  and  if  he  will  put  it  in  writ 
ing,  so  much  the  better." 

"Oh,  I  do  not  agree  with  you  at  all.  Some  of  the  most 
ardent  affairs  I  ever  have  had  have  come  and  gone  with 
out  a  word  spoken  on  either  side." 

"And  how  were  they  managed,  mademoiselle,  if  I 
may  ask?"  said  the  marquise.  "  By  some  third  party, 
I  suppose?" 

"  Oh  no.  But  I  will  tell  you  if  you  care  to  hear.  I 
think  American  girls'  romances  are  generally  interest 
ing  to  the  French." 

"  Do,  mademoiselle.     We  shall  be  charmed  to  hear." 

Clemence,  waiting  in  the  corridor,  coughed  loudly. 
Maria's  face  crimsoned. 

"  Clemence,"  she  called,  "  wait  for  me  in  the  room  of 
the  concierge !" 

"  But  yes,  mademoiselle." 

The  comtesse  turned  to  her  mother,  and,  with  the  char 
acteristic  lack  of  courtesy  among  the  French  towards 
Americans,  said  in  Spanish  : 

"  We  must  beware  of  that  maid.  She  coughed  to 
warn  her  not  to  tell  something." 

"  Ah,  you  speak  Spanish  besides  English,"  said  Ma 
ria,  enviously.  "  As  for  me,  I  speak  only  German, 
French,  and  Italian." 

The  comtesse  smiled.  She  had  heard  of  Maria's 
German  and  Italian. 

"  Spanish  is  the  only  language  we  French  care  to 

99 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

speak.  All  the  world  must  speak  ours,  or — we  do  not 
speak  with  them  1  But  we  speak  Spanish  because  our 
money  is  invested  there,  and  we  wish  to  know  what  they 
say.  But  you  were  about  to  tell  me  of  your  amours. " 

"  Oh,  great  Heavens,  no  \"  cried  Maria,  vehemently. 
"  An  American  never  has  amours.  We  only  have  at- 
fairs." 

"  Ah,  and  the  difference,  mademoiselle  ?  Eugenie, 
give  our  guest  a  drop  of  chartreuse." 

"  There,  now.     Begin." 

"  Well,"  said  Maria,  "  there  was  one  tragic  affair  that 
I  had  with  an  Italian  count  in  Naples.  I  saw  him  for 
three  days  in  succession,  and  there  was  always  the  same 
look  in  his  eyes  that  I  spoke  of  in  your  son's,  the  same 
look  followed  my  every  movement.  I  returned  his  look, 
and  on  the  third  day,  driven  to  perfect  despair  by  the 
fact  that  he  could  make  no  headway  against  my  cold 
ness,  although  he  had  only  spoken  to  say  '  Good-morn 
ing/  or  '  Will  you  hand  me  the  butter  ?'  he  rushed  away 
and  proposed  for  the  hand  of  a  little  signorina  whose 
father  was  very  rich.  He  only  cared  for  her  money, 
and  I  drove  him  to  it !  Now  that,  slight  as  it  may  sound 
in  the  telling,  was  a  real  tragedy  in  my  life.  It  embit 
tered  me  for  months." 

The  Frenchwomen  exchanged  glances. 

"  How  very  interesting  !"  said  the  marquise. 

Maria  flushed  gratefully. 

"  Another  drop  of  chartreuse,  mademoiselle.  It  is  very 
fine." 

"  It  is  fine,"  said  Maria,  sipping  the  golden  liquid. 

"  But  there  have  been  others,  have  there  not  ?" 

"  Others  ?  Indeed,  I  should  think  so  !  There  was 
one  on  the  Nile — an  Englishman.  He  too  gave  me 
these  curious  glances.  Whenever  I  entered  the  dining- 
room  he  watched  me.  He  took  his  seat  near  me  on  the 
terrace.  He  watched  me  over  the  top  of  his  newspaper. 

100 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

And  once  he  called  his  friend  over  to  look  at  me  when  he 
thought  I  was  not  looking,  for  I  heard  him  say  :  '  There 
she  is  !'  And  his  friend  said,  '  By  Jove  !  I  don't  won 
der  you  can't  take  your  eyes  off  her.'  And  the  first  one 
said  :  '  I  sha'n't  let  her  out  of  my  sight  even  for  a  horned 
toad/  from  which  I  made  out  that  he  must  be  a  naturalist 
and  preferred  me  even  to  his  profession.  So  when  we 
decided  to  sail  for  Brindisi,  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  to 
find  that  he  followed  me.  He  sat  opposite  to  me  at  the 
captain's  table,  and  our  state-rooms  were  even  next  each 
other.  One  night  we  had  a  storm,  and  I  distinctly 
heard  this  man  say  to  his  friend  :  '  I  shall  save  her  and 
let  you  drown  if  necessary  !'  But  just  as  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  that  this  man  and  I  were  made  for  each 
other,  I  was  taken  ill  and  had  to  remain  at  Brindisi,  so  I 
never  knew  where  my  naturalist  went  or  what  became 
of  him." 

"  How  very  interesting,"  said  the  marquise,  again. 
Maria's  cheeks  were  flushed  at  her  success  in  enter 
taining  the  terrible  old  marquise  of  whom  she  stood  in 
such  awe. 

"  Will  you  have  another  drop  of  chartreuse,  made 
moiselle  ?"  said  the  comtesse. 

"  No,  oh  no  I"  said  Maria.  "  I — I  do  not  care  for  any 
more." 

"Ah,  T  am  sorry  you  do  not  like  the  chartreuse.  My 
brother  selected  it  with  such  care." 

"  Did  he  ?"  said  Maria.  "  Then  I  will  have  one  more 
taste  of  it." 

"Ah,  that  goes  better,"  said  the  comtesse.  "And  after 
so  many  affairs  of  this  sort,  have  you  any  feeling  left 
for  our  poor  Raoul  ?" 

Maria  clutched  the  arms  of  the  chair  with  her  little 
brown  bird-claws.  The  chartreuse  brought  spots  of 
red  into  her  cheeks  and  she  felt  her  tongue  loosen. 

"  Have  I  any  feeling  left  for  Raoul  ?"  she  repeated. 

101 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

She  blinked  her  eyes.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  You  are  his 
mother  and  sister,  and  you  can  understand.  And  then, 
too,  you  are  French.  These  things  are  so  ridiculed  and 
misunderstood  in  America.  My  life  has  been  very  empty 
and  barren.  I  never  have  had  much  love,  so  that  the 
love  of  the  comtesse  was  really  my  first  experience. 
My  nature  is  full  of  sentiment  which  I  never  can  ex 
press,  and  if  I  try  to  explain  myself  to  an  American  girl 
she  looks  at  me  in  horror  and  says  I  am  decadente,  or 
else  she  ridicules  me  and  tells  me  that  it  is  indecent  to 
speak  of  such  matters.  But  with  the  French  I  can 
speak.  Your  daughter's,  marquise,  has  been  the  only 
real  friendship  of  my  life.  Her  love,  her  sympathy,  her 
sweet  sincerity,  her  delicate  tact  in  expressing  it,  have 
combined  to  make  me  almost  worship  her.  If  I  said 
that  to  an  American  she  would  say  it  was  because  the 
comtesse  had  a  title.  But  while  I  respect  the  title,  it  is 
only  for  her  exquisitely  poetic  nature,  the  fine  sentiment, 
the  quality  of  her  mind,  and  the  fact  that  because  of  her 
noble  birth  she  lives  up  to  the  motto  '  Noblesse  oblige/ 
Who  but  a  Frenchwoman  would  have  the  exquisiteness 
to  offer  a  gift  to  her  beloved  church  on  the  eighth  anni 
versary  of  her  dear  husband's  death  !  What  tender 
ness  !  What  fidelity  you  French  have  !  And  the  com 
tesse  is  the  loveliest  of  them  all.  It  is  for  that  I  love  her. 
She  will  never  know  what  she  has  been  to  me.  She  is 
the  only  one  who  has  any  interest  in  me.  Think  of 
that  dreadful  fire  in  the  Bazar  de  la  Charite  !  All  my 
American  friends  knew  that,  as  it  was  conducted  by 
Frenchwomen  of  fashion,  I  should  in  all  probability  be 
there,  yet  did  one  of  them  cable  to  know  ?  Not  one  ! 
Not  one  of  all  the  Americans  I  have  entertained  and 
worked  myself  nearly  to  death  trying  to  please  !  Not 
one  of  them !" 

Her  thin  American  voice  rose  almost  to  a  scream. 

"  But,  my   dear   Maria,"  interrupted   the   comtesse, 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  why  should  they,  when  you  yourself  have  related  to 
me  with  great  distinctness  and  endless  detail  the  history 
of  your  quarrels  with  each  and  every  one  of  your  friends  ? 
You  have  read  me  the  letters  you  have  written  them, 
telling  how  you  regretted  your  hospitality^  to  them,  and 
severing  all  friendship  with  them  forever." 

"  But  you — you  sent  to  inquire  !"  cried  Maria. 

"Ah,  you  never  have  insulted  me,  as  you  have  all  your 
other  friends." 

"  Would  you  too  have  deserted  me  if  I  had  ?"  asked 
Maria,  piteously. 

"  Undoubtedly.  I  would  never  have  forgiven  you — 
never,  as  some  of  your  American  friends  have.  An 
American  forgives  and  forgets  insults  which  we  French 
would  harbor  and  revenge  if  it  took  a  lifetime.  I  am 
amazed  that  your  American  friends  ever  have  forgiven 
your  insulting  letters.  I  ?  I  would  have  killed  you  for 
them — or  Raoul  would  have  killed  your  brother.  You 
never  have  known  what  it  was  to  govern  yourself  in 
any  particular.  You  must  learn  control.  Raoul  is 
not  an  American.  You  cannot  speak  to  him,  nor  write 
to  him  as  you  do  to  your  Americans  when  you  are  an 
gry  or  jealous." 

"  What  would  he  do  ?"  asked  Maria,  with  wide  eyes. 

Both  Frenchwomen  laughed  ominously. 

*  You  would  lose  him,"  answered  the  marquise. 
Maria  gave  a  cry  like  a  wounded  animal. 

"  I  will  try  !  Oh,  I  will  I  I  could  not.  bear  it  to  lose  him 
now  !  I  have  waited  so  long — so  long.  I  thought  he 
never  would  come  !" 

"  So  you  have  been  waiting  for  him,"  said  the  com- 
tesse,  rubbing  her  arm  fretfully. 

*  I  have  waited  ever  since  the  first  hour  I  saw  him," 
answered  Maria,  fervently.     She  twisted  her  hands  to 
gether.     "  1  remember  the  first  day  1  was  at  Vrianault, 
you  showed  me  his  suite  of  rooms,  and  when  I  came  to 

103 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

his  bedroom  I  could  see  him,  in  my  mind's  eye,  just  as 
distinctly  as  if  I  had  already  met  him,  and  1  wondered 
then  if  I  ever  would  be  his  wife  and  privileged  to  enter 
that  room  whenever  1  liked." 

The  marquise  cleared  her  throat. 

"  It  is  very  interesting  to  hear  all  this,  is  it  not,  ma- 
man  ?  But,  oh,  how  I  miss  Hedwig  !" 

"  You  miss  the  way  she  used  to  draw  her  fingers  down 
your  arm  ?"  cried  Maria.  "  How  cleverly  she  did  it  !  I 
used  to  watch  her  with  such  admiration  1" 

"  You  are  the  only  one  who  could  ever  imitate  her/' 
said  the  comtesse.  "  You  have  such  marvellous  pow 
ers  of  observation  !" 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  do  it  for  you  now  ?"  asked  Maria, 
eagerly. 

She  came  and  knelt  at  the  Frenchwoman's  side  and 
began  to  smooth  her  inner  arm,  drawing  her  fingers  out 
through  the  palm  of  the  comtesse's  hand.  The  com 
tesse  shivered  like  a  stroked  cat  and  stretched  herself 
sensuously.  The  marquise  watched  the  tense  face  of 
the  American  in  silence.  She  was  displeased  with  her 
daughter  for  accepting  such  attentions. 

"  No  one  knows,"  proceeded  Maria,  eagerly,  "  how  I 
have  longed  to  be  a  mother — to  have  a  child  of  my  very 
own.  It  horrifies  my  American  friends  when  I  say  so. 
But  it  seems  so  simple  and  easy  to  say  it  to  you.  You 
view  the  matter  in  the  only  innocent  and  proper  light, 
and  you  speak  of  such  matters  among  yourselves  so 
naturally — you  will  never  know  what  it  has  been  to  me 
to  pour  myself  out  to  you  in  this  way.  My  American 
friends  ridicule  the  idea  that  there  can  be  an  equality  in 
a  friendship  between  an  American  and  a  Frenchwoman, 
but  they  little  know  the  exquisite  texture  of  ours,  dear 
comtesse !  There  is  nothing  sordid  in  it  —  not  one 
coarse  or  jarring  note.  I  love  you  I" 

"  Have  you  decided  upon  an  hotel  for  your  father  ?" 

104 


THE   EXPATRIATES 

interrupted  the  comtesse.  "  He  depended  so  much  upon 
your  judgment,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  have  one  all  se 
lected  for  him.  Of  course  he  will  not  know  his  Paris, 
nor  where  he  ought  to  live,  and  you  are  so  familiar  with 
its  aristocratic  quarters,  what  do  you  think  of  maman's 
charming  little  hotel  in  rue  de  Chaillot  ?  1  would  not 
have  him  in  ari  apartment,  my  dear.  It  is  not  suf 
ficiently  dignified  for  the  father  of  the  young  Marquise 
d'Auteuil.  I  would  persuade  him  to  take  an  hotel.  Do 
you  know  maman's  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed,"  answered  Maria,  eagerly.  "  I 
know  it  perfectly.  It  is  charming,  and  just  about  the 
size  we  should  want." 

"  Then  why  not  sign  the  lease  at  once  ?  I  never  saw 
a  father  depend  so  much  upon  a  clever  daughter's  judg 
ment  as  your  father  depends  upon  yours.  Here  are  the 
leases.  Let  me  read  them  to  you." 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  hotel  so  well  it  is  not  necessary  to 
read  them.  How  much  is  the  rent  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  mere  bagatelle  to  so  rich  a  man  as  your 
father.  Only  forty  thousand  francs  a  year.  Do  you 
think  he  will  be  pleased  to  find  you  the  fiancee  of  the 
Marquis  d'Auteuil  and  the  future  mistress  of  Vria- 
nault  ?  Here  is  the  pen.  Sign  your  own  name,  not  his. 
There!" 

Maria's  cheeks  burned  and  her  eyes  glittered.  She 
would  have  signed  her  father's  name  to  a  check  if  the 
comtesse  had  asked  her  to,  and  had  looked  at  her  out  of 
those  liquid  brown  eyes  so  like  Raoul's. 

The  marquise  and  her  daughter  remained  standing 
after  the  lease  was  signed. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Maria,  hurriedly.  The  French 
women  made  no  objections,  and  the  comtesse  rang  for 
the  butler  and  sent  for  Maria's  maid. 

They  only  shook  hands  at  parting,  although  Maria 
would  have  kissed  them  both  if  she  had  dared. 

105 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

When  the  door  closed  behind  her,  the  two  looked  at 
each  other  silently,  and  then  smiled. 

"  Well  ?"  said  the  comtesse.  "  Raoul  has  interpreted 
her  well,  has  he  not  ?  He  will  not  find  her  cold." 

"  He  will  find  her  ready,"  answered  her  mother.  "  But 
let  us  dismiss  her  from  our  minds  1  What  are  your 
plans  for  to-morrow  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  see  M.  Falize  to  arrange  for  my  com 
mission  on  the  communion  set.  It  will  save  asking  the 
Jew  for  a  new  loan." 

The  marquise  looked  admiringly  at  her  daughter. 

"  How  clever  you  are  at  managing,  Eugenie  !"  she 
said.  "  I  did  not  know  why  you  had  those  leases  here  !" 

Just  then  the  butler  entered  with  a  cablegram. 

The  comtesse  tore  it  open,  then  gave  a  little  cry  of  de 
light. 

"  It  is  from  Raoul  !  He  sails  on  the  same  ship  with 
the  family  and  intends  to  propose  for  the  hand  of  the 
younger  sister  !  1  have  seen  her  photograph,  and  she 
will  be  a  beauty.  Ah,  my  hideous  Maria,  you  will  not 
be  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil,  after  all  !  Oh,  how  happy 
1  am !  That  dear  Raoul !  So  clever  and  adroit  1" 

She  rang  the  bell. 

"  Henri,"  she  said,  "  we  are  not  at  home  to  Mile.  Hol- 
lenden  until  I  give  further  orders  !" 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN  Maria  and  Clemence  were  in  the  brougham, 
Maria  turned  on  the  maid  like  a  tigress. 

"  How  dared  you  cough  in  that  manner  to  remind  me 
not  to  betray  myself !"  she  began.  "  Do  you  think  I  am 
a  child — a  baby  to  be  told  by  a  servant  when  to  be  dis 
creet  ?  1  will  not  allow  it  \  Such  impertinence  1  " 

"  They  are  very  clever,  the  marquise  and  the  com- 
tesse,"  said  Clemence,  simply. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  am  not  clever — 
that  I  am  not  their  equal  ?"  demanded  Maria,  churning 
herself  into  a  fury.  "  I  will  show  you  how  I  manage 
things !  I  will  show  you  how  far  I  dare  go !  I  have 
rented  an  hotel  for  my  father  already — before  he  comes !  I 
have  decided  to  take  the  hotel  of  the  Marquise  d' Auteuil 
in  the  rue  de  Chaillot.  He  will  not  deny  me  anything 
now  that  I  am  to  marry  one  of  the  oldest  titles  in  France. 
We  shall  live  at  Vrianault.  I  shall  restore  it,  and  I 
shall  live  every  day  among  those  magnificent  tapestries 
which  nothing  would  induce  them  to  part  with.  They 
are  much  reduced  in  circumstances,  otherwise  they 
never  would  have  left  the  Faubourg  St. -Germain  to  live 
in  an  apartment,  yet  they  never  have  parted  with  those 
treasures." 

"  The  concierge  says  the  comtesse  gets  her  apartment 
rent  free  from  her  Jew  landlord,"  said  Clemence,  in  a 
curious  tone. 

"  I  don't  believe  it !"  cried  Maria,  in  a  fury.  "  That  is 
an  infamous  lie,  made  up  by  a  malicious  woman !  How 

107 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

dare  you  listen  to  such  a  thing,  much  less  repeat  it  to 
an  unmarried  woman  ?  Clemence,  if  you  ever  speak 
to  me  again  in  terms  of  disrespect  of  the  family  of  my 
fiance  I  shall  dismiss  you  !" 

The  Frenchwoman's  teeth  glittered  in  a  smile  as 
she  leaned  back  in  the  brougham  and  made  no 
reply. 

Clemence  cast  a  disdainful  glance  at  Madame  Lucie  as 
they  passed  her  door.  Madame  Lucie  returned  the  com 
pliment  and  indicated  in  pantomime  the  miserly  nature 
of  the  shrunken  little  figure  of  the  American  who  march 
ed  past,  her  head  in  the  air  and  her  mind  busy  with  plans 
of  her  future  grandeur. 

The  actions  of  the  concierge  so  enraged  Clemence 
that,  as  soon  as  she  had  put  Maria  to  bed  and  had  been 
dismissed  for  the  night,  she  went  down  to  call  upon 
Madame  Lucie. 

The  concierge  made  haste  to  receive  her  and  to  offer 
some  wine  and  biscuits. 

"  Try  this  Burgundy,  Madame  Clemence,"  said  the 
concierge.  "  It  is  from  Madame  Flamont's  on  the  third 
floor.  She  understands  good  wine,  does  Madame 
Flamont.  The  Comte  de  Rouen  selects  it  for  her.  See, 
it  is  really  a  fine  Burgundy.  Hold  your  glass  up — so — 
and  look  at  it.  Why  does  your  American  rastaquouere 
buy  such  cheap  wine  ?  Is  it  that  she  does  not  know, 
or  because  she  will  not  part  with  the  francs  ?" 

"  Her  pourboires  are  small,  for  an  American,"  an 
swered  Clemence,  shrewdly,  "  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  hate  her.  We  are  well  taken  care  of,  and 
better  times  are  coming." 

"Ah,  better  times  are  always  coming  with  you,  Ma 
dame  Clemence  !  You  look  always  on  the  bright  side, 
but  it  does  not  always  come  true.  How  is  your  poor 
daughter  ?" 

Clemence 's  face  grew  purple.  Her  lame  daughter 

1 08 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

had  just  been  married  to  a  respectable  shopkeeper  in 
Tours. 

"  My  daughter  is  very  well,  and  very  happy  in  her 
marriage,"  answered  Clemence.  "And  your  daughter, 
Madame  Lucie,  is  she  well  ?" 

"  Very  well,  I  thank  37ou,  and  growing  richer  all  the 
time.  She  sent  me  a  fine  black  silk  dress  to-day,  only  a 
little  shiny  across  the  back  and  split  out  under  the  arms, 
but  much  finer  than  the  one  Madame  Flamont  gave  to 
her  maid  Fanchon  who  speaks  English.  It  is  much  too 
fine  for  me  to  wear  now.  I  shall  lay  it  aside  to  be  buried 
in.  Ah,  it  is  charming  to  be  so  rich  as  Lili !  I  suppose  it 
will  be  many  years  until  your  daughter  sends  you  a 
black  silk  dress,  now,  but  a  little  shiny  across  the  back 
and  split  out  under  the  arms  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  will,  for  whatever  my  daughter  sends 
me  will  be  got  honestly.  I  dare  say,  now,  your  Lili 
would  be  glad  to  have  a  marriage  certificate  to  hang  on 
the  wall  ?" 

"  Not  if  it  were  only  to  a  butcher  in  Tours  !"  cried 
Madame  Lucie.  "  My  Lili  has  gentlemen  for  her  friends 
— gentlemen  of  title,  perhaps  the  husbands  and  brothers 
of  some  fine  people  that  your  American  rastaquouere 
runs  after  !" 

"  My  American  will  soon  be  the  one  to  be  run  after," 
answered  Clemence,  deliberately.  "I  came  down  to 
night  to  tell  you  that  she  is  the  fiancee  of  the  Marquis 
d'Auteuil  !  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Brissy  proposed  for 
her  hand  to-day,  and  this  evening  we  have  gone  to  call 
upon  them  and  make  our  formal  acceptance." 

Madame  Clemence  crossed  her  arms  and  watched 
Madame  Lucie  with  malice  such  as  only  a  French 
woman  of  the  lower  classes  would  be  capable  of  feel 
ing. 

The  concierge  turned  pale  and  her  Burgundy  spilled 
in  her  trembling  hand. 

109 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say  ?  Have  the  contracts 
been  signed  ?  Is  the  dot  agreed  upon  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  all  settled,  for  the  rich  father  of 
mademoiselle  and  the  beautiful  young  sister  and  the 
handsome  brother  are  soon  to  sail  from  America  to  live 
in  Paris.  We  are  to  take  a  fine  hotel  and  set  up  an 
establishment  which  will  surprise  you.  Then  you  will 
see  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  calling  daily  upon  the  '  little 
brown  rat/  as  you  call  her,  for  the  American  rastaquouere 
is  to  be  called  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil  and  to  have 
Vrianault !" 

From  Madame  Lucie's  agitation  Clemence  was  con 
vinced  of  the  truth  of  her  suspicion,  and  she  drank  her 
Burgundy  with  unctuous  enjoyment. 

They  took  leave  of  each  other  with  many  expressions 
of  good  will  and  admiration,  and  Clemence  heavily 
propelled  herself  up-stairs  to  her  room. 

When  she  was  gone,  Lucie  glanced  doubtfully  at  the 
clock,  but  the  lateness  of  the  hour  deterred  her. 

"It  will  be  time  enough  to  break  it  to  the  pretty  dear  to 
morrow,"  she  muttered.  "How  will  she  bear  it?  She 
has  warned  him  never  to  marry,  yet  he  has  defied  her  I 
I  suspected  some  such  trick  from  his  rushing  off  to 
America  the  day  after  the  fire  !  Lili  said  it  was  to  avoid 
duels,  but  trust  the  old  fox  of  a  mother — the  old  she- 
bear — to  watch  over  the  welfare  of  a  pretty  innocent  like 
Lili !  Oh,  my  little  dove,  so  pretty,  and  so  much  in  love 
with  him  !  And  the  other  beast,  this  brown  water-rat 
with  her  money,  to  come  and  steal  the  life  away  from 
my  Lili !  Ah.  mon  Dieu  1  What  a  fright  she  will  look 
beside  him,  with  her  shocking  hands,  and  his  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  all  Paris — smaller  and  whiter  even 
than  Lili's !  How  she  loves  him,  that  Lili  of  mine ! 
How  she  has  given  him  money  !  The  little  fool !  She 
never  would  even  have  taken  his  notes  if  I  had  not 
counselled  it.  Ah,  well,  our  revenge  will  come  later.  If 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Lili  loses  her  lover,  the  brown  water-rat  will  pay  those 
notes  !  What  a  figure  !  Such  arms,  and  no  bust,  and 
my  Lili  so  pretty  !  Ah,  mon  Dieu  I  This  is  a  queer 
world  lw 

The  concierge  made  fast  the  door,  wiping  away  a  tear 
now  and  then  with  the  back  of  her  hand.  Then  she 
turned  out  the  lights  and  went  to  her  bedroom,  still  mut 
tering  and  still  shaking  her  head. 


CHAPTER  X 

ON  the  fourth  day  out  from  New  York  the  weather 
cleared,  and,  as  if  by  magic,  the  decks  became  peopled 
with  pale-faced  women,  who  staggered  to  their  steamer- 
chairs,  supported  by  patient  husbands  and  long-suffer 
ing  deck -stewards.  The  brilliant  sunshine,  however, 
and  the  smooth  sea  soon  helped  the  invalids  to  recover, 
and  the  deserted  decks  became  a  mimic  world  once  more. 

To  Rose  Hollenden  each  day  was  at  once  a  revelation 
and  a  joy.  She  was  of  too  irrepressible  a  nature  to  grieve 
long  for  something  which  had  not  gone  forever,  but 
which  was  simply  out  of  her  reach  for  the  time  being. 
She  carried  her  buoyancy  into  everything  she  did,  and 
her  hopefulness  and.  general  optimism  were  her  chief 
charms.  She  was  neither  brilliant  nor  wonderful  in 
any  way.  She  possessed  the  American  girl's  native 
quickness  of  wit,  and  she  had  that  sharp  little  manner 
of  putting  things  which  made  you  look  up  from  your 
soup,  if  you  sat  next  her  at  dinner,  but  it  seemed  more 
than  all  to  be  her  electrical  vitality  which  made  you  like 
her.  There  was  a  sparkle  to  all  she  did,  as  if  the  sun 
light  went  flashing  over  a  little  lake. 

Some  persons  seem  to  possess  an  atmospheric  mental 
quality.  There  are  those  who  seem  gray  and  leaden, 
as  if  it  might  rain  at  any  moment.  There  are  others 
whose  cold  crispness  means  a  sharp,  wintry  nature, 
which  stings  like  the  sudden  warming  of  frost-bitten 
hands.  There  are  others  whose  gentle  melancholy  and 
tender  pessimism  mean  nothing  short  of  autumn  tern- 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

peraments,  where  summer  is  gone  forever  and  nothing 
but  approaching  frost  can  tinge  their  thoughts. 

Then,  in  a  class  quite  by  themselves,  come  those  eager 
natures  which  remind  you  of  the  approach  of  spring. 

The  first  spring  wind  brings  a  suggestion  of  late  patch 
es  of  snow,  of  the  last  thaw,  of  the  rich  black  earth  melt 
ing  beneath,  of  'the  thin  green  stalks  of  jonquils  and 
crocuses  to-day,  and  the  promise  that  we  shall  have 
violets  to-morrow.  There  is  little  of  tenderness  in  a 
spring  wind.  It  is  too  young  for  that.  Tenderness 
comes  with  experience.  But  there  is  a  rush  and  a  whirr 
in  it  as  of  myriads  of  unseen  wings,  and  there  is  a  buoy 
ancy  in  its  sting  which  sends  a  sparkle  into  wintry  blood 
and  a  thrill  to  cool  pulses,  for  its  electricity  is  contagious. 

Rose  Hollenden  was  like  a  breath  of  spring  wind. 

She  came  on  deck  that  morning  to  find  that  the  smooth 
sailing  had  peopled  the  ship  again.  The  invalids 
watched  her  enviously.  Her  brilliant  coloring,  the  en 
ergy  with  which  she  walked  seemed  to  mock  their  mis 
ery.  A  well  person  is  always  such  an  irritation  to  the 
sea-sick. 

Townshend  came  up  to  her  at  once. 

"  I  have  just  been  down  to  see  your  dog,"  he  said. 
"  What  a  beauty  he  is  !" 

"  How  good  of  you  !"  said  Rose.  "  He  is  very  well 
taken  care  of,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  Why,  have  you  been  down  ?" 

"  I  ?  Oh,  1  go  down  several  times  a  day.  1  have 
made  friends  with  the  engineer  and  a  stoker,  and  1  have 
helped  to  sail  the  ship.  How  crazy  you  all  would  have 
been  if  you  had  known  !" 

"  Not  1  !     But  why  do  you  care  for  such  things  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  like  men  who  do  things  !"  cried  the  girl.     "  I 

love  engines  and  machinery  and  big  wheels  and  noise. 

I  love  to  see  the  men  who  make  these  huge  machines 

and  I  love  to  see  the  men  who  can  manage  them.     1  love 

H  113 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

to  ride  on  an  engine,  and  1  know  how  to  run  one  all  by 
myself.  1  have  done  it.  And  once  1  rode  on  the  pilot 
of  an  engine  through  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Gunnison. 
The  president  of  the  road  had  a  party  of  us  in  his  pri 
vate  car,  and  he  said  1  might.  Two  trainmen  held  me 
on,  and  1  never  enjoyed  anything  more  in  all  my  life. 
1  forgot  that  I  was  civilized.  1  forgot  that  I  was  a  wom 
an.  1  seemed  to  be  a  spirit  of  the  west  wind,  and  as  we 
rushed  along  1  shrieked  with  all  the  strength  of  my 
lungs,  and  frightened  those  two  poor  trainmen  nearly 
to  death.  But,  oh,  the  rush  and  whirr  and  the  mad 
ness  of  it  !  That  half-hour  ride  did  more  for  me  than 
some  other  whole  years  had  done.  It  taught  me  things. 
I  can't  tell  you  what,  but  you  would  know  if  you  ever 
had  ridden  there  yourself." 

"  I  know,"  said  Townshend.  "  It  is  something  like 
the  feeling  that  comes  to  a  man  when  he  has  broken  in 
a  horse  and  conquered  him  and  tamed  him." 

"  No,  no,  it  is  quite  different  from  that.  I've  done 
that,  too.  But  this  is  something  that  unlocks  all  your 
uncivilized  imagination.  You  forget  that  you  are  hu 
man.  You  feel  like  Brunnhilde.  You  feel  that  the  winds 
are  brothers  and  the  earth  your  mother  and  the  sky 
your  father.  The  Indians  and  all  savages  seem  near 
er  to  you  than  women  in  skirts  and  hats,  and  your 
thoughts  are  absolutely  pagan.  If  you  sang,  you 
would  sing  the  '  Walkure  '  war-cry,  and  if  you  wor 
shipped,  you  would  worship  the  great  god  Pan.  You 
have  the  wings  of  an  eagle  and  the  heart  of  a  sea 
gull,  and  nothing  seems  to  loosen  the  spirit  within  you 
but  to  shout  to  your  unseen  kinsmen  that  you  are 
there !" 

"  You  would  like  to  hunt  big  game  in  Africa,"  said 
Townshend,  laughing. 

"Wouldn't  I,  though!"  cried  Rose.  "Did  you  ever 
do  that  ?" 

114 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh  yes.  We  must  persuade  your  father  to  make 
up  a  party  and  go." 

"  He  never  would  do  such  a  thing  !  You  don't  know 
him.  He  wants  to  get  to  Paris  to  study  social  condi 
tions.  My  sister  has  great  influence  with  him,  and 
she  wishes  to  establish  a  salon.  That  is  where  I  shall 
end  my  days  \" 

"  I  would  rather  see  you  in  Africa,"  said  Townshend. 

"  You  would  ?"  said  Rose,  opening  her  eyes.  "  Why,  I 
thought  you  would  be  quite  in  favor  of  the  drawing- 
room  idea.  You  love  your  Paris  so  dearly,  and  you 
seem  cut  out  for  a  quiet  life." 

"  You  would  make  of  me  a  carpet  knight,  would  you 
not  ?  And  a  man  without  a  country  ?" 

Rose  looked  at  him  shyly. 

"  Perhaps  I  do  not  know  you  at  all, "said  she,  simply. 
"  I  don't  want  to  do  you  an  injustice." 

"  Miss  Schermerhorn  is  a  clever  girl,"  said  Town 
shend,  abruptly.  Rose  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  began  to  compare  herself  to 
Lida  Schermerhorn.  The  girl's  sparkle  as  she  rushed 
up,  closely  followed  by  Shirley  and  Sir  Arthur  and  the 
marquis,  appealed  to  Rose  as  a  trait  which  must  be  very 
attractive  to  men. 

"  1  have  three  more  people  promised  for  the  concert  to 
morrow  night,  Rose  !"  cried  Lida.  "  There  is  a  little 
California  girl  who  is  going  to  Paris  to  dance  at  the 
Folies  -  Bergere,  who  says  she  will  do  the  skirt-dance 
and  another  thing  that  she  has  invented  herself,  and 
little  Jock  Hallock,  who  was  president  of  the  Hasty- 
Pudding  Club  three  years  ago,  is  going  to  do  Romeo  to 
Shirley's  Juliet.  Now  the  question  is,  what  woman  is 
tall  enough  to  lend  Shirley  a  skirt,  or  shall  we  make  him 
one  out  of  the  ship's  sheets  ?" 

"  Couldn't  he  wear  one  of  my  skirts  ?  I  am  the  big 
gest  woman  on  board,"  said  Rose. 

"5 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  know  you  are,  but  he  would  take  it  up  so  in  the 
waist,  I  am  afraid  it  would  strike  him  about  his  knees. 
Then  that  funny,  funny  little  Scotchman  with  blue 
goggles  offered  to  do  the  sword-dance  in  Highland 
costume,  and  I  nearly  died  at  the  proposition,  so  1  ac 
cepted  with  effusion.  Won't  that  be  killing  ?  Think  of 
his  dear  little  bare  knees  in  the  glare  of  our  kerosene-oil 
foot-lights  !" 

"  'Do  you  suppose  the  captain  would  let  me  have  Peter 
up  to  do  some  of  his  tricks  ?"  asked  Rose. 

"  Can  that  huge  monster  do  any  tricks  ?"  asked  Sir 
Arthur. 

"  Don't  tell  him,  Rose  !  Let  him  wait  and  see  !  Peter 
was  sea-sick  yesterday,  and  so  were  all  the  other  ani 
mals.  Isn't  it  pitiful  to  see  an  animal  suffer?"  said  Lida. 

"  Not  nearly  as  pitiful  as  to  see  a  man  or  woman 
suffer,"  said  Shirley. 

"  Oh,  I  think  it  is  much  worse  1  A  human  being  can 
speak  and  tell  you  where  the  pain  is  and  to  hurry  up  with 
the  mustard,  but  poor  Peter  just  moaned  and  looked  at 
Rose  as  if  to  say,  '  Why  don't  you  do  something  for  me, 
you  big,  strong,  glorious  being  with  a  soul  !  I  am  only 
a  dog,  and  if  I  die  I'm  not  even  going  to  heaven.  What 
is  the  use  of  your  superior  brain  if  you  can't  put  me  out 
of  my  misery  !'  ' 

"Perhaps  he  wouldn't  act,  if  he  has  been  ill,"  said 
Townshend. 

"  Yes,  he  will.  He  is  quite  fit  to-day,  and  if  Miss  Hol- 
lenden  asks  the  captain  I  am  sure  he  will  give  her  per 
mission,"  said  Sir  Arthur. 

"  Have  you  been  down  to  see  him,  too  ?"  asked  Rose. 

"  Why,  yes.     He  is  your  dog,  isn't  he  ?" 

Townshend  made  a  quick  turn  and  walked  away 
from  the  little  group,  and  then  came  back  again. 

"  Oh  yes,  he  is  my  dog,  and  I  am  glad  you  like  him. 
He  is  one  of  the  best-bred  dogs  in  the  country." 

116 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  The  captain  wants  to  know  if  you  won't  serve  tea  in 
his  cabin  at  five  this  afternoon,  Rose,  and  invite  your 
own  guests,  so  you  could  ask  him  then  if  we  can't  have 
Peter  up." 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  Peter  ?"  asked  the  marquis. 
"  It  is  a  very  ugly  name,  1  think." 

"  It  is  ugly,"  admitted  Rose.  "  But  it  is  strong  and 
fine,  after  all.  His  whole  name  is  Peter  the  Great.  I 
named  him  after  a  great  man.  Peter  the  Great  was  wise 
and  strong,  and  helped  the  weak  and  taught  people  and 
worked  with  his  own  hands,  even  though  he  was  a  king — 
an  emperor.  He  did  things  1  And  1  have  often  told 
my  German  bloodhound  that  if  he  was  only  as  wise  and 
faithful  and  good  as  his  namesake  the  king,  that  1  would 
be  perfectly  satisfied.  He  wears  Peter  the  Great's  pict 
ure  in  a  gun-metal  locket  around  his  neck  on  state  occa 
sions,  and  he  can  tell  that  picture  from  a  hundred  others. 
1  show  him  a  number  of  photographs  and  say,  '  Now, 
Peter,  go  and  find  the  picture  of  the  man  you  are  named 
for,'  and  he  goes  and  fumbles  around  with  those  big 
paws  of  his  and  brings  it  to  me.  He  never  misses  it. " 

"  So  even  Peter  can  '  do  things,'  "  said  Townshend, 
wondering  if,  among  all  his  acquaintances,  he  knew  a 
man  who  had  done  things  in  sufficient  number  and  of 
sufficient  greatness  to  please  this  young  girl  in  the  pink 
shirt-waist  and  sailor  hat,  with  the  eager  desire  to  take 
her  place  in  the  world  already  burning  within  her. 

"  He  is  a  brave  dog,"  said  Shirley.  "  He  saved  a 
child's  life  once.  Rose  had  him  in  a  cab  one  day  and  a 
child  pulled  away  from  its  nurse  and  ran  into  the  street. 
Another  carriage  was  approaching,  and  the  baby  just 
stood  still.  Rose  seized  the  lines  and  stopped  her  own 
cab,  but  before  that  Peter  gave  one  bound  and  knocked 
the  child  over  with  such  force  that  dog  and  baby  rolled 
over  together,  while  the  other  carriage  flew  by  directly 
over  the  spot  where  the  child  had  stood  a  moment  since. 

117 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

When  Rose  got  out,  the  child  was  screaming  from  its  fall, 
and  Peter  was  so  ashamed  of  his  roughness,  for  the 
ungentlemanly  manner,  as  it  were,  of  his  rescue,  that  he 
refused  to  be  comforted.  He  put  his  paws  over  his  eyes, 
as  he  does  when  Rose  scolds  him,  and  lay  on  the  grass  in 
perfect  humiliation  until  Rose  put  his  locket  on  him  and 
told  him  how  very  proud  she  was  of  him.  But  even 
now,  if  you  say,  'And  that  poor  baby  cried  and  cried/ 
Peter  begins  to  whimper  and  goes  to  Rose  to  be  com 
forted  I" 

"  Peter  is  a  perfect  gentleman,"  said  Rose. 

"  Suppose  we  all  go  down  to  see  him,"  suggested  Sir 
Arthur. 

"  All  right.  I  want  to  look  at  Rose's  flowers.  The 
captain  had  them  all  put  in  the  ice-box  to  keep  them 
for  the  concert.  Oh,  Rose,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  the^ 
Princeton  football  team  are  going  to  give  an  imitation 
of  the  Harvard- Yale  boat-race,  sitting  on  the  floor  of 
the  stage.  Won't  that  be  too  killing  ?  And — oh,  Sir 
Arthur,  you  go  on  ahead  with  the  other  men;  I  want 
to  whisper  something  to  Rose.  There  are  so  many 
English  on  board,  I  thought  it  would  be  a  pretty  com 
pliment  to  end  the  concert  with  '  The  Star -Spangled 
Banner,'  sung  by  the  Americans,  to  be  followed  by 
'God  Save  the  Queen/  sung  by  the  English.  Don't 
you  think  that  would  be  nice  ?" 

"  Charming.     Have  you  spoken  for  the  band  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  I've  got  them  in  the  second  cabin  now, 
practising  Mr.  Townshend's  song.  He  wrote  some 
words  to  that  thing  you  were  playing  yesterday." 

"  Did  he  ?"  asked  Rose.     "  Are  they  good  ?" 

"  Beautiful,  /  think.  I  didn't  know  it  was  in  him. 
He  wrote  it  in  French  and  then  translated  it.  It  is 
exquisite  in  French,  but  the  English  is  not  half  bad." 

"  I  hate  a  man  who  expatriates  himself,  and  who 
writes  poetry  1"  cried  Rose.  "  Why  doesn't  a  big  man 

118 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

like  Mr.  Townshend   go  out  into  the  world  and  do 
things?" 

"  Rose,  you  are  unjust  to  him  !  He  does  '  do  things' ! 
You  are  so  fond  of  animals — do  you  know  anybody 
who  would  have  travelled  eight  thousand  miles  to  see 
with  his  own  eyes  whether  his  cattle  could  be  made  to 
suffer  less  ?  Do  'you  know  his  reputation  for  nerve 
among  ranchmen  ?  Do  you  know  that  his  cowboys 
swear  by  him  as  if  he  were  their  king  ?  Shirley  says 
there  isn't  one  of  them  who  wouldn't  follow  him  into  the 
jaws  of  certain  death  if  he  led  the  way.  For  my  part,  1 
am  glad  he  speaks  half  a  dozen  languages  and  writes 
verse  and  knows  which  fork  to  use ;  and  just  because 
he  tucks  his  trousers  into  his  boots  in  Arizona  doesn't 
tuck  his  napkin  into  his  collar  in  Paris  !  We  already 
know  that  he  can  ride  straight  and  shoot  straight,  and 
that  he  looks  you  fairly  in  the  eye  when  he  talks  to  you. 
Townshend  is  what  1  call  a  big  man,  and  I'm  surprised 
at  your  narrowness  and  prejudice,  Rose  Hollenden. 
You've  got  much  to  learn,  my  girl,  to  teach  you  the  dif 
ference  between  a  man  and  a  fool." 

Rose  turned  her  head  away  to  conceal  her  pleasure 
in  Lida's  stalwart  defence  of  Townshend.  Miss  Scher- 
merhorn's  brown  eyes  were  snapping  with  energy  and 
near-sightedness,  and  she  was  giving  vent  to  certain 
little  scornful  sniffs  which  Rose  evidently  understood. 

"  And  as  to  his  living  away  from  America/'  she  went 
on,  "  I  don't  blame  him.  /  haven't  been  treated  so  well 
there  since  we  lost  our  money  that  I  wouldn't  live  away 
from  it  if  I  ever  could  save  seventy-five  cents  to  get  a 
start." 

Rose,  in  great  contrition,  hastened  to  change  the  sub 
ject. 

"  There  are  so  many  more  Americans  on  board  than 
English,  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  polite  of  us  to  ask 
them  to  sing  their  national  hymn  alone." 

119 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it/'  declared  Lida,  stoutly.  "  You  don't 
know  the  English,  my  dear.  If  there  was  only  one  fat 
dowager,  or  one  beef-fed  man,  she  or  he  would  stand  up 
all  alone  and  sing  it  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the  honor 
of  Great  Britain,  and  sit  down  in  the  proud  conscious 
ness  of  a  duty  well  done.  So  don't  worry  about  to 
morrow  night.  We  have  a  hundred  and  ninety-three 
Americans  and  sixteen  English,  but  the  English  will 
sing  just  as  well  as  we  do.  Depend  upon  it." 

An  ocean-liner  is  a  wonderful  place.  The  ice-boxes 
of  the  St.  Louis  alone,  filled  with  meats  and  vegetables 
for  two  thousand  persons  for  six  or  eight  days,  are  a 
sight  to  be  remembered. 

"  1  hope  you  are  well  enough  to  stand  mixed  odors," 
said  Townshend,  as  they  began  to  leave  the  familiar 
part  of  the  great  ship  and  to  descend  into  the  un 
known. 

"  There  aren't  many  odors  on  the  St.  Louis,"  said 
Miss  Schermerhorn.  "  She  is  so  well  ventilated,  she  is 
as  clean  and  sweet  as  a  yacht." 

"Just  come  and  look  at  the  kitchens!"  cried  Rose. 
"  See  the  cooks  preparing  dinner  !  Don't  you  call  that 
a  wonderful  sight  ?  It  is  twice  as  appetizing  as  some 
of  the  big  hotel  kitchens." 

"  And  the  second  cabin  is  almost  as  good  as  ours. 
We  have  a  little  more  plush  and  gold  paint,  perhaps," 
said  Lida,  but  Rose  supplemented  : 

"  1  think,  however,  that  the  steerage  is  the  best  for  the 
money — well  aired,  perfectly  clean — " 

"  You  don't  go  into  the  steerage,  do  you  ?"  asked  Sir 
Arthur,  with  a  frown. 

"  Only  to  read  to  a  poor  crippled  child,"  said  Lida. 
"  He  is  quite  by  himself.  Rose  had  him  taken  from 
his  people,  who  worried  him,  and  placed  where  he 
would  be  better  cared  for.  She  goes  every  day — " 

"  The  hold  is   very   interesting,"  interrupted  Rose, 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

coloring  with  embarrassment.  "  You  have  to  go  down 
that  ladder.  See  how  steep  it  is !" 

The  two  men  burst  out  laughing. 

"  You've  never  been  in  the  hold  !"  exclaimed  Sir 
Arthur. 

"  Haven't  I,  though  !  I  wanted  to  see  how  they 
managed  the  luggage  for  so  many  people.  But  the 
engines — " 

They  paused  at  the  door  of  the  engine-room  and  Rose 
clasped  her  hands  in  ecstasy  at  the  thunder  and  majesty 
of  the  giant  machinery.  Lida  and  Sir  Arthur  covered 
their  ears  and  moved  away,  but  Townshend.  in  wonder, 
watched  the  eager  face  of  the  3roung  girl  until  her  en 
thusiasm  wrested  his  composure  from  him.  Something 
of  the  thrill  which  shook  the  iron  monster  got  into  the 
blood  of  these  two.  A  wild  exhilaration  from  the  Things 
as  They  Are  tingled  in  their  pulses.  He  moved  nearer 
to  her,  and  for  the  first  time  this  man  and  this  woman 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes — eagerly,  questioningly, 
tremblingly,  searching  for  the  answer  to  that  which  drew 
them  together. 

It  was  the  woman  who  turned  away  first,  with  a 
shade  of  disappointment.  Why  did  this  man,  whose 
very  glance  had  power  to  move  her,  deliberately  live 
away  from  her  dear  country  and  tacitly  repudiate  the 
flag  ?  Her  budding  interest  in  him  was  chilled  by 
this  unanswerable  question  which  always  troubled  her 
soul  whenever  a  new  bond  of  sympathy  seemed  immi 
nent. 

They  found  Rose's  friend,  the  stoker,  feeding  Peter. 

"  It  isn't  my  business,  sir,"  he  said,  touching  his  fore 
lock  to  Sir  Arthur,  "  but  the  young  lady  comes  down 
here  and  seems  so  fond  of  him,  sir,  that  we  see  that  he 
wants  for  nothing.  She  understands  machinery,  sir  !" 

Sir  Arthur  pulled  his  mustaches  and  his  red  face  grew 
redder  as  he  thought  of  Rose  as  the  mistress  of  his  place  in 

121 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Warwickshire,  in  the  midst  of  his  servants,  who  would 
speak  of  her  in  the  admiring  tone  of  this  ship's  stoker. 

Peter  the  Great  was  magnificent.  Rose  told  him  to 
stand  up,  and  when  he  obeyed  her  and  put  his  great 
paws  on  her  shoulder  she  staggered  a  little  under  his 
weight. 

It  nattered  Townshend  and  Sir  Arthur  to  discover 
that  their  attentions  to  Peter  were  recognized  and  that  he 
came  to  speak  to  them,  wagging  his  tail,  and  giving  his 
paw  at  their  request,  as  a  gentleman  should.  But  to 
Rose's  dismay,  when  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  came  for 
ward,  Peter  gave  him  one  look  and  turned  his  back  on 
him. 

"  Why,  Peter  !"  said  Rose.  "  How  very  rude  of  you ! 
Go  and  speak  to  the  marquis  directly." 

Peter  only  wagged  his  tail  and  looked  anxiously  at 
his  mistress. 

"  Peter,  you  are  very  ungentlemanly.  Turn  around 
this  moment  and  apologize." 

Peter's  tail  only  wagged  the  harder,  but  he  flatly  re 
fused. 

Rose  took  his  head  in  her  two  hands  and  tried  to 
turn  it. 

"  Why,  I  can't  move  him,  Shirley !"  she  said.  "  See, 
Peter,  I  am  going  to  shake  hands  with  the  marquis  !" 

The  dog  turned  and  watched  her  give  her  hand  to  the 
Frenchman.  Townshend  saw  the  dog's  hair  stiffen  on 
his  back.  The  marquis  bent  and  kissed  Rose's  hand, 
pressing  it  at  the  same  time  a  trifle.  Peter  growled  and 
took  one  step  towards  him,  and  the  marquis  backed 
away. 

"  Why,  Rose,  I  never  saw  him  behave  like  that  be 
fore!"  cried  Lida,  coming  to  the  rescue.  "  Perhaps  he 
resents  your  not  having  called  on  him  before,  "she  said, 
turning  to  the  marquis.  "All  the  rest  of  us  come  every 
day." 

122 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

She  turned  and  led  the  way  up-stairs. 

"  It  is  very  curious,"  said  the  marquis,  ignoring  the 
incident,  "  how  the  captain  seems  to  have  placed  the 
whole  ship  at  the  disposal  of  two  young  girls  like  your 
self  and  Mile.  Hollenden.  I  saw  him  showing  her  how 
to  take  observations  on  the  bridge  this  morning,  and  I 
find  that  the  ship's  carpenters  are  building  some  ap 
paratus  for  her  concert  to-morrow  night." 

"  And  the  band  is  in  the  second  cabin  practising  her 
song,  and  the  captain  has  asked  her  to  serve  tea  in  his 
cabin  this  afternoon  !"  supplemented  Lida,  laughing. 
"  Is  there  anything  funny  in  that — when  you  look  at 
Rose  ?" 

The  Frenchman  bowed. 

"  No,  mademoiselle  !  When  I  look  at  her — you  are 
right.  It  is  not  strange." 

"  When  did  you  meet  the  marquis,"  Townshend  asked 
Rose  on  their  way  up-stairs. 

"  The  captain  introduced  him  just  after  dinner  last 
night.  Isn't  he  charming  ?  But  did  you  ever  see  such 
hands  ?  I  like  everything  about  him  except  his  hands. 
He  flourishes  them  about  with  more  vanity  than  the 
vainest  woman  I  ever  saw.  They  would  be  lovely  on  a 
girl  as  small  as  Miss  Schermerhorn,  but  on  a  full-grown 
man  they  are  simply  ridiculous.  What  could  he  do  if 
attacked  by  a  robber,  or  to  save  a  woman  from  a  burning 
building  ?  I  could  crush  both  of  them  in  one  of  mine,  I 
think.  But,  if  you  can  forget  that  one  weakness,  there  is 
something  very  fascinating  about  him.  He  seems  to  be 
au  courant  with  everything  going  on  in  the  world  of  art. 
He  and  Shirley  and  I  had  a  long  talk  together  while  you 
and  Sir  Arthur  were  smoking  with  papa." 

"  I  told  you  you  would  like  the  French." 

"  Well,  there  is  something  different  in  their  manner. 
Our  American  men  make  comrades  of  us.  There  is  a 
deference  in  the  manner  of  a  Frenchman  which  is  new 

123 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

and  delightful.  It  is  rather  nice  to  be  put  on  a  pedestal 
and—" 

"  And  worshipped,"  supplemented  Townshend. 

"  Well,  1  was  going  to  say  that,"  admitted  Rose,  frank 
ly,  "  but  I  happened  to  think  that  the  marquis  did  not 
worship.  Only  his  manner  indicated — indicated — " 

She  paused,  blushing,  and  realizing  that  she  was 
speaking  too  freely. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Townshend.  "  1  am  afraid 
my  manner  was  too  inquisitive.  I  betrayed  you  into 
saying  more  than  you  intended." 

"  I  forgot  that  I  was  being  so  personal,"  said  Rose, 
simply.  "  I  take  such  an  interest  in  people  that  I  for 
get  myself.  I  shall  learn  in  time  to  be  more  reserved. 
1  was  made  to  feel  in  New  York  that  all  naturalness  was 
underbred.  How  shall  I  find  Paris  ?" 

"  You  will  find  both  London  and  Paris  less  rigid  than 
New  York,  because  their  civilization  is  older.  New 
York's  smart  society  is  still  self-conscious  and  not  per 
fectly  sure  of  itself.  But  in  London  and  Paris  you  may 
be  as  natural  in  your  manner  as  you  choose,  and  peo 
ple  will  find  your  very  naturalness  charming." 

"  Really  ?  I  am  so  afraid  of  it  !  I  always  felt  un 
comfortable  in  New  York,  even  after  I  was  taken  up 
and  invited  everywhere.  I  always  felt  that  I  was  be 
ing  inventoried." 

"  That  was  because  they  did  not  accept  you  wholly. 
You  will  see  the  difference  at  once  in  London.  You 
will  feel  it.  It  is  the  difference  between  the  real  and  the 
spurious.  Society  in  London  is  so  old,  so  established, 
that  it  can  afford  to  do  exactly  as  it  pleases.  New  York 
is  still  only  a  generation  or  two  away  from  its  genesis, 
and  it  has  not  forgotten  the  humble  origin  of  its  grand 
fathers.  Therefore  it  is  narrow  and  bigoted.  I  have 
that  fault  to  find  with  all  American  society.  They 
never  accept  a  man  because  he  is  a  hero,  or  a  woman 

124 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

because  she  is  fine.  In  five  hundred  years  from  now, 
I  think  I  should  like  to  live  in  New  York.  By  that  time 
it  will  have  got  to  a  point  when  it  is  unafraid." 

"  You  are  very  reassuring,"  said  Rose.  "  I  hope  I 
shall  get  on,  to  please  my  sister." 

"  What  a  pity  they  are  going  to  sacrifice  you  to  the 
little  things  of  life  \"  said  Townshend,  suddenly.  "  You 
who  could  do  so  much  that  is  worth  while." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that !  If  you  only  knew  how  I  long 
to  go  about  and  see  people  who  are  doing  things  !  I 
want  to  see  Cecil  Rhodes  and  Dr.  Nansen,  and  people 
who  explore  and  invent.  That  is  why  I  nearly  go  crazy 
over  Kipling.  He  always  writes  of  things  that  are  !  I 
wish  I  could  have  known  Oliver  Cromwell  and  Bismarck 
and  Napoleon,  and  even  Warren  Hastings — although 
Burke  was  greater,  because  he  could  undo  all  that  a 
great  man  had  done  and  not  stir  out  of  his  place.  That 
is  power.  That  is  greatness.  I  wish  I  could  have 
heard  him  make  his  speech  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot's 
debts  !  I  have  read  it  a  dozen  times.  /  would  have 
been  one  of  those  women  who  sat  through  his  seven-day 
speech,  and  I  would  not  have  fainted  away  either.  But 
as  it  is,  all  I  can  do  is  to  organize  a  concert  on  board  an 
ocean-liner  for  the  benefit  of  the  Sailor's  Home  \" 

"  Well,  isn't  that  a  fine  thing  to  do  ?"  asked  Town 
shend.  *  You  are  a  lovely  young  girl,  using  her  charm 
and  influence  to  make  money  for  some  of  the  greatest 
heroes  who  ever  lived.  It  is  not  always  the  men  who 
make  speeches  and  explore  and  invent  who  are  the  great 
of  this  world.  In  the  hold  of  this  ship,  in  my  opinion, 
there  are  heroes  who  are  as  brave  as  those  who  fought 
at  Thermopylae  or  Austerlitz,  or  in  the  battle  of  the  Wil 
derness — men  who  would  stand  by  their  engines  until  the 
ship  sank,  or  who  would  fall  back  and  allow  every  pas 
senger  to  be  taken  off  before  leaving  their  posts.  Men 
who  stand  by  their  guns — those  are  my  heroes.  Some- 

125 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

times  one  never  knows  their  names  ;  only  that  a  fire 
man  belonging  to  such  and  such  a  company  rescued 
women  and  children  from  a  burning  building.  No 
name,  often  not  even  a  medal  or  the  recognition  of  hav 
ing  his  name  spelled  correctly  in  the  morning  papers, 
but  in  my  mind  every  inch  a  hero,  and  the  bravest  of 
heroes  at  that." 

"  Ah,"  said  Rose,  "  you  believe,  then,  even  in  women 
heroes.  They  are  the  unsung  heroes  of  the  world — the 
heroes  of  the  little  things." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  these  lines  ? 

"'You  who  sail  over  the  sea  in  ships, 

Tall  ships  and  strong  ships  and  ships  of  renown, 

When  you  go  down 

It's  the  talk  of  the  town  ; 

But  nobody  knows 

When  the  little  boat  goes 

And  the  fishermen  drown. 

"  '  Lost  or  run  down  off  the  Banks  in  a  fog — 
Blinding,  blank  fog,  on  the  fathomless  sea, 
Only  the  fright  of  a  cry  in  the  night 
By  the  steamer's  black  side 
And  a  boat's  crew  have  died 
Ere  you  knew  them  to  be. 

Driven  and  wrecked  by  the  score  on  your  coast — 
Poor  little  boats  in  the  wild  winter's  gale, 
Poor  frozen  men 
Who  shall  never  again 
Turn  their  white  faces 
Back  to  their  places 
Whence  they  set  sail. 

:  '  Scant  is  the  livelihood  snatched  from  the  sea, 
Long  is  the  labor  and  hard  the  men's  lives, 
Many  are  lost. 
What  is  the  cost? 
Nobody  knows 
When  the  little  boat  goes 
But  the  children  and  wives.'" 
126 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,"  cried  Rose,  with  her  cheeks  kindling,  "  that  is 
fine,  and  it  was  written  by  an  American,  too." 

"  Yes,  you  strange  child.  It  was  written  by  an 
American." 

"  Why  am  I  strange  ?  I  don't  see  any  harm  being 
glad  a  beautiful  thing  has  been  done  by  one's  country 
man." 

"  No,  of  course  there  is  no  harm  in  it.  It  only  struck 
me  as  surprising  that  the  sentiment  of  a  thing  like  that 
should  appeal  to  you  less  than  the  nationality  of  its 
author." 

"  I  can't  help  it.  The  appreciation  of  the  sentiment 
goes  hand  in  hand  with  my  pride  in  the  author  and 
my  desire  to  do  him  credit.  Surely  you  can't  object  to 
that." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  like  it.  I  wish  more  Americans 
had  your  spirit.  I  wish  the  piracies  of  French  plays 
could  be  stopped.  I  wish  that  the  name  of  the  dramatist 
could  appear  in  as  large  type  as  the  name  of  the  chief 
actor.  And  so  I  apologize  for  laughing.  You  do  quite 
right  to  honor  the  author,  you  ardent  American.  But 
now  let  me  ask  you  before  Sir  Arthur  reaches  us,  will 
you  let  me  sit  next  to  you  at  the  concert  to-morrow 
night  r 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  promised  the  Marquis 
d'Auteuil." 

"  Well,"  said  Townshend,  laughing,  "  for  a  Frenchman 
who  has  only  been  in  America  a  few  weeks,  he  is  learn 
ing  our  ways  rather  rapidly." 

But  it  so  happened  that  at  the  concert  so  much  had  to 
be  done  behind  the  scenes  that  Rose  only  came  into  the 
audience  two  or  three  times,  but  wherever  she  went  the 
Frenchman  was  her  shadow.  In  vain  Rose  tried  to 
send  him  back  to  his  place  in  front.  He  was  evidently 
bent  upon  taking  advantage  of  all  the  freedom  accorded 
young  persons  on  shipboard,  and  he  refused  to  leave  her. 

127 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  How  is  it  going  ?"  she  asked  Sir  Arthur,  in  one  of  the 
moments  when  she  appeared  in  the  audience. 

"  Very  well,  indeed.  Miss  Schermerhorn's  little  Scotch 
man  performed  with  so  much  seriousness  that  she  had 
to  leave  the  room.  She  is  out  there  on  deck  now 
with  your  brother.  And  the  boat-race  was  quite  the 
funniest  thing  1  ever  saw." 

"  I  am  so  glad.     How  did  the  dancing  go  ?" 

"  Beautifully.  That  little  girl  will  create  a  furore  in 
Paris.  The  dance  she  does  with  colored  lights  and 
those  swirling  skirts  is  quite  marvellous." 

"And  she  is  an  American,"  said  Rose. 

"  Undoubtedly.  You  Americans  have  quite  covered 
yourselves  with  glory  to-night,  especially  you.  When 
you  came  on  in  that  white  gown,  leading  Peter,  you  re 
minded  me  of  Una  and  the  Lion.  I  wish  my  father 
could  have  seen  you.  Did  you  train  Peter  yourself  ?" 

"  Quite  !  Quite  !  Isn't  he  clever  ?  And  wasn't  he 
funny  when  they  applauded  him  ?  At  first  he  was 
frightened,  but  he  knew  when  1  put  his  locket  on  that  I 
was  pleased,  and  his  military  salute  was  so  good.  Peter 
is  an  American,  too  !" 

Sir  Arthur  laughed  and  looked  into  the  girl's  charming 
face  as  if  he  were  willing  to  admit  that  everything  Ameri 
can  were  quite  to  his  taste. 

"  What  comes  next  ?"  asked  Rose,  looking  at  the  pro 
gramme  that  she  had  tacked  to  the  wall  in  the  compan- 
ionway.  "Oh, 'God  Save  the  Queen.'  You  must  go  and 
sing  with  the  English  while  1  round  up  the  stray  Ameri 
cans  on  deck  and  have  them  in  their  places  for  '  The 
Star-Spangled  Banner/  There  are  a  hundred  and 
ninety-three  of  us  and  only  sixteen  of  you,  so  go  and 
sing  your  best." 

The  band  struck  up  "  God  Save  the  Queen,"  and  the 
English  people  all  over  the  audience  by  twos  and  threes 
rose  to  their  feet  and  sang  valiantly.  Even  scattered  as 

128 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

they  were  they  made  a  goodly  volume  of  sound,  and 
every  word  could  be  heard  distinctly. 

"  That  was  fine  !"  cried  Rose  to  Sir  Arthur  as  she 
passed  him  a  moment  later.  "  I  never  heard  the  words 
to  your  hymn  before.  We  always  sing  'America'  to  it 
here." 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation  when  the  opening 
bars  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner"  rang  out.  One 
or  two  Americans  started  to  rise,  and  Shirley  Hollenden 
shouted  : 

"  Everybody  will  please  rise  and  sing  '  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner. ' ' 

That  was  all  that  was  necessary.  In  a  moment  some 
two  hundred  Americans  were  on  their  feet,  and  in  a 
mighty  burst  of  sound  the  first  line  rang  out : 

"  Oh,  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light 
What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at   the  twilight's  last  gleaming?" 

On  the  third  line  the  singers  palpably  weakened.  Men 
looked  nervously  at  their  wives,  and  mothers  whispered 
to  their  children,  "  What's  the  next  line  ?" 

On  the  fifth  line  there  were  only  about  twenty  people 
singing  the  words.  The  others  were  singing  "  tum-ti- 
tum  "  and  "  la-la-la."  The  band  played  louder  in  order 
to  cover  up  the  singers'  deficiency. 

On  the  seventh  and  eighth  lines  everybody  remem 
bered  and  sang  at  the  tops  of  their  voices : 

"  Oh,  say  does  the  star-spangled  banner  yet  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ?" 

The  Americans  saw  defeat  staring  them  in  the  face, 
and  would  have  been  glad  to  sit  down  at  the  end  of  the 
first  stanza,  but  the  band,  without  waiting  for  orders, 
struck  up  the  second,  and  only  two  voices  responded — 
a  beautiful  tenor,  Townshend's,  and  Rose's  girlish  so- 
i  129 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

prano.  Some  of  the  others  attempted  to  hum  with  them, 
but  soon  left  off,  and  the  two  sang  alone.  Rose's  cheeks 
were  burning,  but  she  sang  steadily,  and  Townshend 
seconded  her  bravely,  although  it  was  a  trying  ordeal. 

At  the  end  of  the  second,  most  of  the  Americans 
drifted  out  of  the  doors  nearest  them. 

"  Is  that  enough  ?"  whispered  Townshend. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  sharply.  "  I  am  going  to  sing  it 
all  the  way  through  1" 

And  she  did,  with  Townshend's  help.  The  English 
watched  her  with  admiration,  but  when  she  finished 
there  were  not  over  half  a  dozen  Americans  left  stand 
ing  to  support  her.  The  others  had  either  sat  down  or 
gone  on  deck. 

As  she  finished  singing  she  turned  and  faced  the  half- 
empty  room  with  blazing  eyes.  The  English  and  for 
eigners  had  remained  through  courtesy  and  applauded 
generously.  But  the  girl's  whole  face  quivered  with 
shame  and  anger. 

She  walked  down  the  aisle  with  he"r  head  held  high. 
Townshend  followed  her,  longing  to  say  something  to 
comfort  her,  but  not  daring.  As  she  passed  up  the  com- 
panionway  she  glanced  at  the  programme  she  had 
tacked  up  there  and  it  read  : 

"  'God  Save  the  Queen,'  sung  by  the  English. 

"  And  God  help 

"  '  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,'  sung  by  the  Americans." 

Some  one  had  written  in  those  three  words. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  train  from  Calais,  bearing  the  Hollenden  party 
in  a  special  car,  was  expected  in  Paris  at  six  o'clock  on 
a  perfect  summer  day. 

Maria,  with  her  hideous  little  Bijou  in  her  arms,  who 
shivered  perpetually  even  on  so  warm  a  day,  drove  down 
with  Clemence  in  her  hired  victoria  to  meet  her  father 
and  her  new  sister  and  brother,  whom  she  never  had 
seen. 

From  the  presence  of  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil  at  the 
Gare  St.  Lazare  she  imagined  that  Raoul  was  expected 
also.  But  for  the  whole  of  a  wretched  week  she  had 
gone  day  after  day  to  the  hotel  of  the  marquise  only 
to  be  refused  admittance  at  the  door  without  a  word 
of  explanation  except  the  formula  from  Henri : 

"  Madame  la  Marquise  does  not  receive  to-day." 

In  vain  she  asked  for  the  comtesse.  In  vain  she 
wrote  and  sent  tear-stained  notes.  The  notes  were  an 
swered  in  a  phraseology  so  chilling  that  they  were  worse 
than  silence. 

In  some  manner  Madame  Lucie,  the  concierge, 
learned  that  the  American  was  not  being  received  by 
the  family  of  her  fiance,  and  her  treatment  of  Madame 
Clemence  was  hard  to  bear.  They  hurled  defiance  at 
each  other  when  they  met,  and  the  triumphant  air  of 
the  mother  of  Lili  gave  Clemence  more  concern  than 
the  attitude  of  the  family  d'Auteuil. 

Maria  was  haggard  and  gray  of  face  from  anxious 
nights  and  weary  days,  and  her  tight  cloth  gown  and 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

her  liver-colored  dog  made  her  so  piteous  a  figure  that 
Clemence  longed  to  keep  her  out  of  sight. 

"  Beware,  mademoiselle/'  she  said.  "  The  marquise 
sits  watching  you,  and  I  warn  you  to  show  no  emotion 
at  the  sight  of  your  fiance.  He  will  undoubtedly  ar 
rive  by  this  train.  The  comtesse  is  driving  down  just 
back  of  us.  Do  not  speak  to  the  marquis,  nor  appear 
to  notice  him,  unless  he  speaks  first." 

"  We  are  the  victims  of  a  conspiracy,"  said  Maria, 
opening  her  parched  lips  with  difficulty. 

The  comtesse  bowed  so  frigidly  that  Maria  did  not 
dare  descend  to  speak  to  her.  It  was  the  first  time  Ma 
ria  had  seen  her  since  the  evening  she  had  called. 

A  smart  little  brougham  drove  up,  and  a  beautiful 
figure,  heavily  veiled  and  dressed  in  the  deepest  of  Paris 
mourning,  stepped  out  and  vanished  inside  of  the  sta 
tion.  Clemence  started. 

"  Pardon,  mademoiselle,"  she  said,  "  but  let  us  de 
scend  and  wait  inside.  The  train  is  due  in  five  min 
utes." 

But,  in  spite  of  Clemence's  cleverness,  she  could  not 
obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  face  of  the  veiled  woman.  Only 
her  figure  was  so  beautiful  Clemence  was  reasonably 
sure. 

With  a  great  clang  the  train  rolled  in.  Out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye  Maria  saw  Raoul  embrace  his  sister 
and  mother.  But  the  car  containing  the  Hollenden 
family  was  farther  along.  She  passed  the  marquis, 
with  her  head  up,  going  to  meet  a  tall  young  girl  who 
she  knew  must  be  Rose.  But  to  her  amazement,  and 
no  less  to  the  astonishment  of  the  tall  young  girl,  the 
marquis  paused  just  in  front  of  Maria,  turning  from 
his  mother  and  sister  hurriedly,  and  saying  in  a  low 
tone  : 

"  Maria  !" 

"  Courage,  mademoiselle,"  hissed  Clemence  in  her 

132 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ear,  under  pretence  of  taking  the  dog,  which  in  her  ex 
citement  Maria  dropped. 

The  marquis  took  Maria's  hand  and  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  at  the  same  time  giving  her  a  look  from  his  liquid 
brown  eyes  which  brought  a  dull  red  to  her  cheeks. 

The  old  marquise  drew  back  perceptibly,  but  the 
comtesse,  although  speechless  with  fury,  stepped  to 
Maria's  side  and  kissed  her  on  the  .cheek.  Rose  col 
ored  with  surprise.  It  was  not  two  days  since  the 
marquis  had  proposed  to  her  in  London,  and  been  re 
fused.  What  could  it  mean  ? 

In  an  instant  it  was  over — they  had  released  her  and 
gone,  followed  by  Clemence  and  the  veiled  figure,  and 
Maria  was  face  to  face  with  her  family  for  the  first  time. 

Clemence  saw  the  mother  and  sister  of  the  marquis 
drive  off  in  the  brougham,  while  he  drove  his  own  dog 
cart.  Just  as  he  took  the  reins,  the  veiled  figure  spoke 
to  him. 

"  Raoul  !" 

"  Not  here  !  Not  now,  Lili !"  he  answered,  glancing 
around  hurriedly.  "  To-morrow  evening  at  nine,  at 
Armenonville." 

Then  the  Hollendens  appeared,  Maria  and  Rose  still 
looking  at  each  other,  Maria's  head  coming  not  quite 
to  Rose's  shoulder.  Peter  the  Great  marched  solemnly 
at  her  side,  held  by  a  chain  to  his  collar,  and  taking  not 
the  slightest  notice  of  the  shrill  barking  and  mad  jumps 
of  Bijou,  who  quivered  with  rage  and  jealousy  in  Ma 
ria's  arms. 

Sir  Arthur  and  Townshend  took  leave  of  them,  and 
drove  to  their  own  apartments.  Maria  had  engaged  a 
suite  of  rooms  at  the  Hotel  Continental  for  her  father, 
her  entresol  not  being  large  enough  to  hold  so  many. 

"  You  are  coming  with  us,  are  you  not  ?"  Rose  asked, 
in  surprise,  as  Maria  said  good-bye. 

"  No,  I  vshall  dine  alone,  and  leave  you  to  recover  from 

133 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

your  fatigue,"  answered  Maria.  "  I  will  see  you  to 
morrow." 

"  Nonsense,  Maria  !"  said  Shirley.  "  You  will  come 
down  to  -  night.  I  shall  come  to  fetch  you  at  nine 
o'clock." 

"  Well,  if  you  really  wish  for  me,"  said  Maria,  much 
flattered,  "  I  will  come.  You  need  not  trouble  to  fetch 
me.  I  could  not  be  seen  driving  with  you  alone  until 
people  know  that  you  are  my  brother.  Clemence  will 
come  with  me.  Good-bye,  then,  until  nine  !" 

"  Well,  by  Jove,  I  like  that !"  said  Shirley.  "  Couldn't 
be  seen  driving  with  me  alone  until — well,  what  do  you 
think  of  that,  Miss  Lida  Schermerhorn  ?" 

"  I  am  not  supposed  to  think,"  answered  Lida,  de 
murely.  "  She  did  not  speak  to  me." 

Shirley  colored  and  said  something  which  Lida  did 
not  hear.  But  she  laughed. 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  she  said,  gayly.  "  I  sha'n'i  go 
home  and  cry  over  it.  I  am  not  the  weepy  kind." 

"  I  know  you  are  not.  You  are  the  pluckiest  little 
girl  I  ever  saw,  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  admire 
your  bravery  no  end." 

The  girl  colored  and  bit  her  lip. 

"  That  sort  of  thing  upsets  me  more  than  a  snub  from 
a  cad/'  she  said.  "  Don't  ever  say  anything  kind  to  me, 
and  I  can  get  on  without  whimpering.  But  just  you 
dare  to  sympathize  with  me,  and  at  once  I  shall  turn  into 
such  a  waterfall  of  tears  from  self-pity  that  not  even  a 
dam  could  stop  me  !  I  am  used  to  nasty  little  slights." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  they  don't  come  often,"  began  Shirley, 
but  Lida  interrupted  him. 

"  Now  isn't  that  just  like  a  man  !"  she  exclaimed,  de 
risively.  "  What  do  you  know,  you  great  big  beautiful 
thing,  that  all  the  girls  are  crazy  over  because  you 
can  row  and  sail  and  ride  and  swim  and  shoot  better 
than  anybody  else  on  earth — what  do  you  know  of 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

women's  petty  meannesses  to  each  other  ?  Stick  to 
what  you  knoiv,  Shirley  Hollenden,  and  don't  rush  in 
where  angels  fear  to  tread,  because  if  you  do  you  will 
tumble  off  your  pedestal,  and  then  we  shall  discover  that 
you  are  no  more  than  an  ordinary  man." 

"  You  are  always  discovering  that  we  are  only  ordi 
nary  men,  or  else  why  didn't  you  marry  that  English 
lord  who  went  so  mad  about  you  three  years  ago  ?" 

"  I  wish  I  had  !  Then  1  would  have  put  my  foot  on 
your  sister's  neck  and  ground  her  into  the  gravel  with 
my  high  heels  !"  cried  the  girl,  viciously.  "  But  he  was 
little  and  watery-eyed  and  pimply,  and  1  couldn't  stand 
it  even  for  the  pleasure  of  walking  all  over  Maria  Hol 
lenden.  Ah,  ha,  how  intimate  she  was  with  me  that  Au 
gust  at  Hombourg  !  Yes,  Rose,  we  are  coming !" 

"  Shirley,"  said  Rose,  "  would  you  mind  taking  Peter 
in  a  cab,  and  letting  me  take  Lida  in  here  with  us  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  Come  along,  Tzar  of  all  the  Russias. 
You  look  as  solemn  as  an  archbishop.  Don't  you  know 
that  we  are  in  gay  Paris,  where  you  must  be  frivolous 
with  the  rest  of  us  ?  And  look  here,  Peter,  if  you  will 
promise  to  eat  up  that  nasty  little  rat-colored  Bijou  of 
my  sister's  the  first  time  you  are  left  alone  with  her, 
so  that  nobody  can  indict  either  one  of  us  for  conspiracy 
with  intent  to  kill,  I'll  give  you  a  whole  necklace  of 
gun-metal  lockets  with  photographs  of  all  the  kings  re 
spectable  enough  to  be  hung  on  the  same  collar  with 
your  namesake." 

Peter  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  took  his  seat  in  the 
little  fiacre,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  purple-faced 
cocker  in  the  white-glazed  hat. 

The  fine  landau  which  held  the  other  four  swung 
slowly  out  of  the  long  line  of  waiting  carriages,  and 
with  the  utter  perversity  of  Paris  cabmen,  Shirley's 
cocker  drove  his  horse  directly  in  front  of  the  others — or, 
as  Shirley  expressed  it,  sent  a  shot  across  their  bow. 

US 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

In  an  instant  the  two  drivers  struck  at  each  other 
with  their  whips. 

"  Brother  of  a  monkey  !"  shrieked  the  landau. 

"  Sister  of  a  chicken  !"  screamed  the  fiacre. 

The  horses  began  to  bite  each  other,  and  Peter 
stood  up  and  thrust  his  nose  under  the  coachman's 
arm. 

"  Mother  of  Mary  !"  howled  the  terror-stricken  cocker, 
seeing  the  monster's  head  appear  beside  him,  growling 
a  keen  desire  to  take  a  hand  in  the  fight. 

The  coachman  dropped  the  reins  and  tumbled  off  his 
seat  under  the  feet  of  the  landau  horses,  and  a  gendarme 
came  along  and  pulled  him  out,  arrested  both  drivers, 
and  took  the  names  of  the  whole  party. 

"  1  like  Paris !"  cried  Shirley,  when  they  finally  started. 
Peter's  lethargy,  too,  was  broken  up.  He  sat  up  and 
began  to  take  notice. 

Rose  invited  Lida  to  dine  with  them  at  the  Hotel 
Continental  before  going  to  her  pension  in  the  rue  de 
Clichy.  Their  carriage  was  behind  Shirley's  cab,  but 
they  soon  overtook  him,  because  his  coachman  had 
again  been  arrested  for  driving  over  a  bicyclist.  Shirley 
was  leaning  back  at  his  ease  smoking  his  pipe  and  hold 
ing  Peter  back. 

"  Don't  mind  me  !"  cried  Shirley.  "  We've  been 
arrested  again.  Nobody  hurt,  but  a  good  wheel  smashed, 
and  Peter's  fighting  blood  up.  If  anything  else  hap 
pens,  look  for  Peter.  You'll  find  my  dead  body  dragging 
behind  him  in  his  pursuit  of  Paris  coachmen,  the  white- 
hatted  variety  preferred." 

As  they  were  alighting  in  front  of  the  Hotel  Conti 
nental,  with  no  less  than  twenty  servants  swarming 
around  the  rich  American  family,  and  the  directeur 
welcoming  them  in  person,  chattering  charming  French 
polite  inquiries  for  the  health  of  each  member  of  the 
party,  and  condolences  for  the  heat  and  fatigue  of  the 

136 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

journey,  Rose  heard  Peter's  deep  bay  down  the  street 
coming  nearer  and  nearer. 

"  Listen  to  Peter !"  she  cried.  "What  can  have  hap 
pened  to  make  him  bark  so  ?" 

Just  then  Shirley's  cab  dashed  up,  with  both  Shirley 
and  Peter  standing  up  and  furiously  haranguing  the 
crazed  cocker,  Shirley's  voice  in  one  ear  and  Peter's  bark 
in  the  other.  The  cocker's  eyes  were  bulging  from  his 
head  and  his  face  was  streaming  with  sweat. 

"  Ran  over  a  dog,  and  got  arrested  again.  Three 
times  in  one  course.  I  pay  one  franc  seventy-five  and  I 
get  a  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  excitement.  Horse 
fell  down  twice,  and  Peter  on  the  verge  of  nervous  pros 
tration." 

He  paid  the  cabman,  with  many  sarcastic  compli 
ments  on  his  excellent  driving,  and  in  a  fine  fury  the  man 
lashed  his  horse,  turned  him  without  looking,  and  ran 
full-tilt  into  an  omnibus. 

A  Paris  cabman  makes  it  a  rule  never  to  look  around 
before  he  turns  his  horse.  He  can  determine  what  is 
behind  him  with  more  accuracy  by  running  into  it. 

By  the  intervention  of  a  miracle  no  one  was  hurt,  but 
the  horse,  trembling,  cut  about  the  knees,  covered  with 
foam  and  blood,  stood  in  the  wreck  of  the  harness,  while 
the  coachman  swore  and  struck  him  over  the  head  with 
a  piece  of  the  shaft. 

Rose  snatched  Peter's  chain  from  Shirley  and  rushed 
to  the  curb-stone.  Peter  tugged  wildly,  but  Rose  was 
strong. 

"  If  you  strike  that  horse  another  blow,"  she  cried,  "  I 
will  set  my  dog  on  you  !" 

The  man  dropped  the  shaft  and  stared  at  her  in 
terror. 

Shirley  and  Mr.  Hollenden  moved  nearer  to  her,  in 
case  she  needed  their  help,  but  offered  neither  remon 
strance  nor  advice.  A  young  Frenchman  who  was 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

passing  listened  in  astonishment,  and  pretended  to  bar 
gain  with  a  cabman  in  order  to  hear  more. 

"  Bring  that  horse  here  and  let  me  see  him !"  was  Rose's 
next  order. 

The  gendarme  permitted  the  man  to  obey  her.  Rose 
examined  the  trembling  creature  and  the  indignant 
color  flamed  into  her  cheeks. 

"  He  is  very  badly  injured/'  she  said  to  the  gendarme. 
"  What  will  they  do  with  him  ?" 

"  In  all  probability,  mademoiselle,  they  will  send  him 
to  the  doctors  of  the  medical  college  for  vivisection. 
They  will  pasture  him  until  they  need  him." 

Rose  gave  a  little  cry. 

"  Oh,  what  brutes  men  can  be  !  Shirley,  buy  this 
horse  for  me  and  have  him  mercifully  shot  !  I  can't  bear 
to  think  of  this  poor  thing  being  tortured.  It  makes 
me  ill  !  It  makes  me  ill  !" 

*  Go  on  in,  Rose,  I  will  ask  them  to  let  me  shoot  him, 
and  the  first.shot  wrill  end  his  suffering.  Go  in  and  try  to 
forget  him.  Remember,  I  will  shoot  him  myself  1  Now 
gol" 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  the  hotel  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy,  she  and  the 
marquise  waited  anxiously  in  the  salon  for  Raoul  to 
descend  and  explain  himself.  Both  were  reasonably 
sure  of  the  explanation  of  his  conduct  on  the  platform 
of  the  Gare  St.  Lazare,  yet  they  longed  to  hear  it  from 
his  own  lips. 

He  came  in  hurriedly,  shaking  his  handkerchief  from 
its  folds  with  an  ineffably  graceful  movement  of  his 
beautiful  hands,  kissed  his  mother  on  the  cheek  and 
passed  his  arm  around  his  sister's  waist.  When  dinner 
was  announced,  he  offered  his  arm  to  the  marquise  and 
led  her  to  the  dining-room  with  real  affection.  Even  the 
comtesse  relaxed  and  listened  to  his  animated  descrip 
tion  of  his  travels.  As  long  as  the  servants  remained  he 
confined  his  conversation  to  amusing  details  and  left 
the  real  issue  until  they  could  be  alone. 

"  We  were  so  much  amused  by  your  letter,  my  son," 
said  the  marquise.  "  Tell  us  more  about  your  American 
experiences." 

"  Ah,  maman,  you  never  would  believe  me  if  T  should 
tell  you  of  some  of  them.  I  went,  as  I  wrote  you,  di 
rectly  to  Denver,  to  verify  certain  reports,  and  then  came 
back  by  the  way  of  Chicago.  You  remember  Chicago, 
do  you  not,  my  darling,  where  they  held  that  monstrous 
exhibition  ?  Very  well.  It  is  a  hideously'  ugly  spot, 
gloriously  situated  upon  the  shores  of  a  beautiful  fresh 
water  ocean,  so  vast  that  one  would  be  justified  in  think 
ing  it  the  sea.  But  in  some  twenty  miles  of  coast,  along 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

which  the  city  lies,  there  is  not  one  thought  in  the  minds 
of  the  most  artistic  citizen  towards  beautifying  that 
wonderful  shore- line.  Along  half  of  it,  quadruple 
tracks  of  a  monopolist  railway  of  suburban  service 
ruin  the  view,  while  hundreds  of  trains  daily  belch  forth 
smoke  and  cinders  upon  the  uncomplaining  residents 
and  fill  the  air  with  screeches,  whistles,  'and  the  endless 
bell-ringing  of  a  tireless  railway  service.  The  break 
water  is  decayed  and  unsightly.  The  piers  lower  down 
in  the  city  are  plain  and  render  the  harbor  hideous.  It 
is  an  immense  commercial  centre,  more  ships  sailing 
into  the  harbor,  I  am  told,  than  into  any  other  port  in  the 
world.  But  there  is  not  an  atom  of  beauty  anywhere. 
No  statues  to  speak  of,  no  public  fountains  worth  men 
tioning,  miles  of  boulevards  leading  nowhere,  streets 
more  filthy  than  those  of  Constantinople,  and  a  general 
air  of  '  Somebody  else  must  attend  to  these  defects.  I 
haven't  time/  In  Chicago  I  noticed  this  particularly. 
There  is  nowhere  to  go.  To  the  theatres,  yes.  And 
very  good  ones.  But  for  a  ride,  for  a  drive,  on  one's 
wheel,  where  in  God's  name  can  one  go  for  a  glass  of 
wine  and  a  biscuit  ?  To  a  saloon,  where  one  leans  over  a 
marble  counter  and  orders  '  a  drink  '  which  is  seldom 
as  innocent  as  wine.  Or  to  a  country  club,  where  one 
must  either  be  a  member  or  have  been  put  up  for  a  fort 
night  by  a  friend.  But  there  are  no  concert-gardens 
where  one  may  take  a  lady,  no  open-air  cafe's,  nothing 
innocent  or  rural.  One  will  not  find  that  in  any  part 
of  America  that  I  visited,  except  a  few  here  and  there 
in  the  East.  In  the  West  they  are  too  young  and  too 
commercial  to  have  thought  of  beautifying,  and  they 
love  art  only  inasmuch  as  they  can  own  it. 

"  Chicago  is  the  home  of  the  enormous  Stock- Yards, 
and  I  must  have  been  quite  different  from  the  ordinary 
run  of  travellers,  for  upon  my  refusal  to  visit  the  slaugh 
ter-houses  the  newspapers  heralded  my  arrival  with 
these  words  in  head-lines  : 

140 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  '  REFUSES  TO  VISIT  STOCK-YARDS  I 

"  '  French  Nobleman  Declines  to  Witness  Slaughter — 
Declares  his  Visit  to  be  Purely  Social.' 

"  To  which  some  journals  took  exception  and  others 
applauded.  Some  declared  me  to  be  a  French  snob. 
Others  regarded  it  as  evidence  of  taste,  and  interviewed 
me  daily  upon  my  opinion  of  the  art  of  Chicago.  Mon 
Dieu  !  The  art  of  Chicago  as  evidenced  by  one  Art 
Institute,  indifferently  patronized,  and  miles  of  indis 
criminate  architecture.  For  the  rest,  badly  paved 
streets,  a  net-work  of  surface  tram-cars,  both  trolley  and 
cable,  and  dirt  in  unspeakable  quantities  everywhere.  I 
could  but  temporize  with  the  enterprising  reporters  who 
dogged  my  footsteps,  for  to  criticise  anything  in  Amer 
ica  unfavorably  means  eternal  damnation  at  the  hands 
of  the  press,  who  possess  an  unheard-of  license  in  the 
way  of  personal  journalism.  If  our  editors  dared  to  go 
as  far  there  would  be  duels  every  day." 

"  Disgusting,"  murmured  the  marquise.  *  But  it 
quite  bears  out  what  Sophie  de  Briancourt  has  told  me 
of  her  visit  to  that  ridiculously  pretentious  country." 

"  By-the-way,  Raoul,"  said  his  sister,  "  the  Duchesse 
de  Briancourt  is  just  now  able  to  see  a  few  of  her  friends. 
You  must  not  delay  in  paying  your  respects  to  her." 

The  young  man's  face  flushed  and  he  crumbled  his 
bread  nervously. 

"  Indeed  I  must.  What  a  pity  that  I  could  not  have 
seen  those  ruffians  who  trod  her  down  in  that  dreadful 
fire  !  They  tell  me  that  she  saw  none  of  their  faces — 
recognized  none  of  them." 

"  Quite  true.     She  has  never  mentioned  a  name — " 

"  But  little  Claire  St.  James  ?  She  was  outside  the 
window.  She  must  have  seen  some  of  them?" 

"  No,  the  Baronne  Valencia  says  that  Claire  was  un- 

141 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

conscious  from  her  broken  arm  and  the  shock  of  falling. 
It  is  whispered  that  some  one  struck  her  on  the  head, 
but  of  course  no  one  speaks  out,"  said  the  comtesse. 

"  How  difficult  for  Alexandre  to  bear  \"  said  the  mar 
quise.  "  He  rages  at  his  impotence  to  avenge  his  moth 
er.  He  is  such  a  brave  man,  and  so  full  of  pride  and 
fire." 

"  You  are  sure  she  saw  no  one,  recognized  no  one  ?" 
repeated  Raoul. 

"  Quite  sure." 

"  Ah,  what  a  pity  !     What  a  pity  !" 

"  Will  this  interminable  dinner  never  be  over  ?"  mur 
mured  the  comtesse,  as  the  servants  left  the  room.  "  Hen 
ri  has  made  it  into  a  banquet  to  celebrate  your  arrival." 

"  Tell  us  more  of  your  experiences,  my  son.  To  be 
sure  we  are  impatient  to  hear  of  your  private  affairs, 
nevertheless  we  must  contain  ourselves.  Your  letters 
were  extremely  diverting,  especially  your  descriptions 
of  the  objectionable  American  women." 

"  Are  they  all  alike  ?"  asked  the  comtesse. 

"  Not  exactly,"  answered  Raoul.  "  For  example,  the 
young  girls  of  Chicago  and  New  York  differ  some 
what  from  those  farther  west.  They  observe  what  we 
call  the  proprieties  more — outwardly,  at  least.  At  heart 
I  am  convinced  that  all  American  women  are  lawless, 
or,  rather,  a  law  unto  themselves.  They  love  to  decoy 
a  man  to  the  verge  of  declaring  himself,  honorably  or 
otherwise,  and  then  drawing  themselves  up  with  a  fine 
show  of  virtue  and  demanding  innocently  to  know  what 
he  means  !  There  is  an  element  of  cruelty  in  the  char 
acter  of  the  American  woman  in  her  dealings  with  men, 
born  of  two  things.  One  is  the  chivalrous  treatment 
women  receive,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  from  all  men, 
which  has  completely  spoiled  them,  and  the  other  is 
their  ignorance  of  real  life.  They  are  like  children — 
precocious,  pert,  bad-mannered  children — who  love  to 

142 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

pretend  that  they  know  everything,  but  who  are  at  heart 
quite  innocent  and  virtuous  from  our  point  of  view. 
They  lack  soul  and  they  lack  feeling.  Otherwise  they 
are  irresistibly  fascinating.  Their  cleverness  is  never 
profound.  It  is  always  on  the  surface,  yet  most  of  them 
are  beautiful  or  distinguished-looking,  and  all  are  well 
dressed.  Their  clothes  are  in  phenomenally  good  taste, 
and  the  excellent  effect  they  produce  is  quite  guiltless 
of  the  materials  which  a  Frenchwoman  would  use  to 
produce  a  similar  effect — namely,  that  of  a  perfectly 
dressed  and  elegant  woman.  They  respect  Nature 
more  than  we  do.  They  permit  their  hair  to  turn  gray, 
which  it  does  quite  early  in  that  climate,  and  they  have 
the  wit  to  know  that  nothing  is  more  striking  than  gray 
hair,  beautifully  dressed,  around  a  youthful  face.  They 
are  much  less  artificial  than  our  women  in  their  make 
up,  and  this  tends  to  carry  out  a  certain  aspect  of  in 
nocence  in  the  character  of  the  American  woman,  which 
is  calculated  to  bring  out  in  a  European  a  desire  to  pro 
tect  her,  to  befriend  her.  It  may  be  that  it  stirs  that 
pity  which  is  akin  to  love,  for  the  American  woman  is 
always  positive  in  her  effect  upon  a  European.  He 
may  hate,  or  he  may  love.  He  cannot  be  indifferent  to 
her.  But  Heaven  pity  the  man  who  voices  this  chival 
rous  sentiment  I  have  described  !  The  American  wom 
an  will  permit  herself  to  be  worshipped,  adored,  desired, 
but  never  pitied  by  a  mere  man.  Her  arrogance  in  this 
matter  has  been  fostered  by  generations  of  willing  hom 
age,  and  the  American  man  will  never  be  master  in  his 
own  home  until  he  learns  the  lesson  from  a  European 
that  women  ought  to  be  controlled,  protected,  even  bul 
lied  a  little  if  they  and  he  wish  to  live  their  lives  in  the 
proper  relation  of  the  sexes.  Both  would  be  happier  if 
this  were  so,  for  as  it  is  now,  the  woman  is  discontented 
because  she  is  rudderless  and  has  no  use  for  her  liberty. 
The  man  is  unhappy  because  he  is  neglected  and  treated 


with   disrespect,    and1  the   position  of  each  is  anom 
alous." 

"  Come,"  said  the  comtesse,  "  have  your  cigarette  in 
the  salon.  I  am  all  interest,  all  attention  !  How  well 
you  have  studied  your  subject,  and  what  excellent  use 
you  have  made  of  your  time  !" 

"  As  long  as  I  am  to  marry  an  American,  I  considered 
that  I  was  doing  the  wisest  thing,"  said  Raoul. 

"  But  which  one  ?  Why  did  you  kiss  Maria's  hand  ? 
Explain  yourself  !"  cried  the  comtesse. 

Raoul  laughed  at  his  sister's  impatience,  and  pushed 
his  mustaches  upward  from  his  white  and  pointed 
teeth. 

"  Because  I  failed  to  secure  the  other  one.  Did  you 
see  her  ?  Is  she  not  a  beauty  ?" 

"  Ah,  you  love  her,  Raoul  !"  exclaimed  the  comtesse. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  love  her.  In  fact,  I  do  not. 
I  only  know  that  I  want  her.  She  is  adorable — except 
for  the  fact  that  she  has  refused  me  !" 

"  Refused  you !     She  ?    Did  you  speak  to  her  ?" 

"  In  the  American  custom — yes.  I  asked  her  to 
marry  me  in  London.  We  remained  there  several  days. 
These  Americans  received  much  attention  on  account  of 
Sir  Arthur  Carteret's  introductions.  He  is  in  love  with 
her  ;  also  an  American  named  Townshend,  both  fellow- 
passengers.  She  seems  to  favor  neither  of  them,  but  me 
she  has  refused  I" 

"  Then  you  will  be  obliged  to  take  Maria  !"  said  the 
comtesse,  with  a  groan. 

"  Console  yourself,"  said  the  brother.  "  Maria  will, 
for  our  purposes,  be  more  tractable  than  Rose.  Maria  is 
imbued  with  European  customs  She  respects  the 
nobility.  She  adores  our  family — " 

"  And  she  loves  you  !"  cried  the  comtesse,  maliciously. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  What  makes  you  think  so  ?"  asked  the 
young  man,  in  horror. 

144 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  She  admitted  it  quite  frankly  to  us  here  one  night 
just  before  we  received  your  cablegram.  Since  then  we 
have  not  received  her  at  all.  We  thought  it  less  com 
promising.  One  can  explain  away  absolute  silence,  but 
never  utterances,  no  matter  how  non-committal,  nor 
evasions,  no  matter  how  impalpable.  I  knew  the  mo 
ment  you  spoke  to  Maria  that  your  plans  with  the  other 
had  failed.  Now,  all  we  shall  have  to  do  is  to  explain 
to  Maria  that — that  we  wished  to  give  her  time  for  re 
flection  ;  that  we  did  not  wish  to  coerce  her  !" 

Raoul  laughed,  but  the  marquise  said  : 

"  One  thing  which  irritates  me  so  much  with  these 
unspeakable  Americans  is  that  they  make  Eugenie  so 
malicious,  and  even  I  am  obliged  to  stoop  to  measures 
which  I  scorn  in  a  d'Auteuil." 

"  My  proud  little  maman  !"  laughed  Raoul,  kissing 
her  fondly.  "  I  honor  you  for  your  disdain.  But  let  us 
hope  that  the  preliminaries  will  soon  be  over.  I  am  im 
patient  to  embrace  my  fair  bride  !" 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !"  laughed  his  sister.  "  Poor,  poor 
Raoul !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  the  Bois,  not  far  beyond  the  fortifications  of  Paris, 
there  are  many  delightful  cafe's  where  one  may  stop  and 
take  some  refreshment,  and  listen  to  the  band.  The  most 
fashionable  of  these  is  the  Pavilion  d'Armenonville, 
where  every  evening  from  early  spring-time  until  the 
chill  in  the  autumn  air  drives  people  to  firesides,  the 
garden  is  filled  with  the  most  cosmopolitan  gathering 
to  be  found  in  all  Paris. 

Armenonville  is  one  of  the  few  places  where  Americans 
and  smart  Parisians  sit  next  each  other,  and  where,  not 
far  from  either,  celebrated  composers,  or  famous  pro 
fessional  beauties,  may  eat  their  little  red  ices  and  drink 
their  long,  cooling  drinks. 

It  is  here  that  the  famous  Tzigane  band  plays  whose 
leader  fiddled  himself  into  the  affections  of  the  Princesse 
de  Chimay.  His  place  is  taken  by  one  with  almost 
Rigo's  charm,  for  every  night  his  music  thrills  an  audi 
ence  made  up  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  who 
gladly  drop  their  francs  into  the  plate  which  circulates 
among  the  listeners  every  time  the  audience  changes. 

Some  come  for  their  coffee  after  they  have  dined  else 
where.  Some  .spend  the  entire  evening  over  cigars. 
Some  women  come  for  the  famous  glace  framboise,  which 
is  made  better  at  Armenonville  than  anywhere  else  in 
all  Paris.  Some  dine  here,  either  in  one  of  the  private 
dining-rooms  up-stairs,  through  whose  open  windows 
the  diners  can  hear  the  music  from  the  garden  below,  or 
on  the  enormously  wide  veranda  walled  in  by  glass, 

146 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

On  this  veranda,  at.  the  corner  table  nearest  the  band, 
a  dinner-party  of  some  twenty  persons  was  engaged  in 
discussing  the  advent  of  the  Hollendens.  The  hostess 
was  an  American,  but  she  called  herself  the  Marquise 
Hennessy.  Up  to  the  time  she  turned  Catholic  and 
presented  the  Pope  with  a  generous  check  for  the  benefit 
of  the  Church,  she  had  lived  in  the  American  colony  in 
the  rue  de  Chaillot  as  Mrs.  Laurence  W.  Hennessy,  but 
her  title  was  thoroughly  fresh  and  Roman,  and  people 
used  it  and  marquised  her  and  ate  her  dinners  and  drank 
her  champagne  complacently. 

She  was  an  old  woman  with  a  beautifully  rounded 
back.  Her  wig  was  blonde  and  wavy,  her  cheeks 
rouged  and  enamelled,  and  when  the  front  of  her  gowns 
was  well  filled  in  with  tulle,  she  made  an  excellent  ap 
pearance. 

The  Marquis  Larry  Hennessy  spoke  his  French  with 
somewhat  the  brogue  of  a  bricklayer,  but  there  was  an 
irresistible  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes  which  made  you  like 
him  at  once,  and  once  liking  him,  you  never  got  over  it. 

There  were  some  very  nice  people  at  this  dinner.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bobbie  Scott,  of  Philadelphia,  were  there. 
There  was  nothing  at  all  to  be  said  against  Mrs.  Scott 
that  was  her  fault.  She  had  been  the  governess  to 
Bobbie's  little  nieces  when  Bobbie  fell  in  love  and  very 
properly  married  her.  But  although  they  had  no  end  of 
money,  the  Crayton  Scotts,  whose  governess  she  had 
been,  were  leaders  in  society,  and  nobody  called  on  Mrs. 
Bobbie.  So  they  came  to  Paris  for  two  years,  got  to 
know  the  nobility  around  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  and 
then  went  back  to  Philadelphia,  where  they  were  re 
ceived  with  open  arms  by  the  very  people  who  had  re 
fused  to  come  to  their  wedding  two  years  before. 

Then  there  was  the  Comte  de  Casse,  with  his  belle 
amie,  Lady  Gregory,  a  beautiful  Englishwoman,  who 
spoke  French  more  exquisitely  than  many  a  French- 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

woman,  and  who  would  not  give  her  husband  a  divorce 
because  she  was  determined  that  he  should  never  be 
able  to  marry  the  woman  whom  he  had  had  the  impu 
dence  to  bring  into  her  house.  Everybody  knew  how 
she  had  left  her  London  house  in  the  midst  of  her  ball, 
taking  only  her  maid  with  her. 

The  Comte  de  Casse  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  of 
Frenchmen,  and  secretly  objected  very  strongly  to  the 
Americans  as  a  nation,  saying  truly,  "  How  can  we  ever 
hope  to  understand  them  ?"  But  being  very  honestly 
and  sincerely  in  love  with  Lady  Gregory,  he  obediently 
followed  wherever  she  led,  and  so  found  himself  at  the 
dinner  of  the  Marquise  Hennessy.  And  as  for  Lady 
Gregory — "  He  is  an  angel,  my  dear,"  she  said  of  him  to 
Mrs.  Bobbie  Scott — "  simply  an  angel.  When  you  do 
find  a  good  Frenchman,  he  is  the  best  man  in  the  world." 
Whereat  Mrs.  Bobbie  laughed  hugely,  but  admired  Lady 
Gregory  more  than  ever  on  account  of  her  sincerity  and 
her  very  damaging  frankness. 

Mrs.  Farnsworth  was  an  American  widow,  a  real 
widow,  although  they  are  scarce  in  Paris,  and  there  was 
no  particular  reason  for  her  living  there  except  that  she 
did  not  have  enough  money  to  live  at  home,  but  on  the 
same  amount  in  Paris  she  could  dress  exquisitely  and 
get  on  famously  in  the  American  colony. 

But  the  cleverest  woman  of  all  was  the  Baronne  Va 
lencia.  She  was  a  New  Orleans  woman,  and  had  mar 
ried  a  Spaniard  who  had  the  grace  to  die,  lamented  by 
none. 

The  baronne  had  a  chateau  in  Touraine,  very  near  to 
Vrianault,  and  she  knew  everybody  all  over  the  world 
who  were  worth  knowing.  Since  her  marriage  she  had 
been  presented  at  five  courts ;  she  spoke  seven  languages, 
and  she  possessed,  above  all,  a  sense  of  humor.  That 
was  why  she  was  at  Armenonville  at  this  dinner  of  the 
Marquise  Hennessy. 

148 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

At  her  right  hand  sat  the  young  Due  de  Briancourt. 
When  he  looked  in  astonishment  at  her  for  being  present, 
and  said,  '"'  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  she  had  answered 
him — "And  what  are  you  doing  here  ?"  and  then  they 
both  laughed.  The  due  admired  the  baronne  intensely, 
but  she,  having  had  one  foreign  husband,  understood 
him. 

"  What  would  your  mother  say  if  she  knew  that  you 
were  here  ?"  asked  the  baronne. 

"  She  would  be  very  indignant,  but  as  she  is  not  yet 
able  to  leave  her  bed,  I  am  in  no  danger  of  her  discov 
ering  it." 

"  Your  poor  mother  !  Her  nervous  shock  has  proved 
almost  as  serious  as  if  she  really  had  been  burned.  Does 
she  improve  at  all  ?" 

"  Very  slowly.  She  cannot  fall  asleep  for  even  an 
hour  that  she  does  not  waken  screaming  that  the  people 
are  treading  her  to  death.  In  her  lucid  moments  she 
refuses  to  divulge  the  names  of  those  cowards  who 
climbed  upon  her  shoulders  to  reach  the  window,  know 
ing,  of  course,  that  I  would  challenge  one  or  all  of  them, 
and  also  for  the  reason  that  my  dear  mother  is  not  only 
a  Briancourt  but  a  Chartres.  But  from  her  ravings. we 
know  that  some  were  among  her  dearest  acquaintances. 
1  cannot  force  my  obstinate  tongue  to  apply  the  sacred 
name  of  friend  to  those  men  who  beat  down  my  mother 
and  climbed  through  that  window  by  means  of  those 
beautiful  white  shoulders  of  hers  which  1  have  only 
seen  carrying  a  burden  of  lace  and  jewels  !  1  have  sat 
by  her  bedside  for  hours,  hoping  to  discover  a  clew,  but, 
even  in  her  delirium,  her  lips  are  sealed  in  that  one 
particular.  It  seems  as  if  even  her  poor  dazed  brain 
felt  that  there  was  one  secret  which  it  must  guard  as  a 
point  of  honor." 

"  1  was  there,"  said  the  baronne.  "  1  heard  her  screams, 
and  I  saw  those  who  trod  her  down !" 

149 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  You  saw  them  ?  You  vsaw  them  ?  You  know 
their  names  ?  You  must  tell  me  !  Ah,  you  will  not  re 
fuse  me  !  At  last  I  shall  have  my  revenge  !  Ah,  my 
friend,  how  can  1  ever  thank  you.  Tell  me  !  Tell  me 
at  once  !  I  am  so  impatient  to  hear  !" 

The  baronne's  lips  curled. 

"  You  think,  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Briancourt,  that  be 
cause  1  am  an  American,  because  I  am  neither  a  Chartres 
nor  a  Briancourt,  that  I  cannot  have  the  heart  of  a  noble 
woman  !  You  ask  me  to  turn  informer  and  perform  an 
ignoble  act  which  you  have  just  boasted  that  your  mother 
was  too  high-minded  to  descend  to  !  Thank  you  for  the 
unconscious  expression  of  your  regard  for  my  character, 
my  friend  !  Thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your 
polite  request — but  no  !" 

The  young  man's  face  flushed.  He  pressed  his 
serviette  nervously  to  his  lips  once  or  twice  before  he 
replied.  The  baronne's  hand  trembled  as  she  lifted  her 
wine-glass. 

"  1  beg  your  pardon  !"  he  said,  at  last.  And  then 
again,  "  I  beg  your  pardon!" 

His  tones  were  so  sincere  that  the  baronne's  brow 
cleared. 

"  We  must  learn  to  bear  such  unconscious  insults — we 
Americans — without  resentment,  I  suppose.  But  they 
hurt,  due,  they  hurt !" 

"  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,"  answered  the  young  man, 
simply.  "  I  never  intend  to  wound  any  one  at  all,  most 
of  all,  you,  my  adored  friend,  but  one  never  thinks  of 
ascribing  either  nobility  or  honor  to  your  nation,  and  I 
am  continually  forgetting  that  you  are  an  American." 

"  I  am  still  an  American  at  heart,  and  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  a  man  of  your  intelligence  think  so  lightly  of  us." 

"  1  judge  by  what  1  see,"  answered  the  Frenchman, 
glancing  around  the  table  of  his  American  hostess  with 
a  shrug.  "  Rastaquoueres,  most  of  them,  Those  who 

150 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

are  not  are  frivolous,  bad-mannered,  and  incapable  of 
thought.  Their  only  virtue  is  that  they  know  how  to 
give  dinners,  and  their  wines  are  unexcelled.  This 
Chateau  Yquem  is  like  liquid  gold." 

"  Listen  to  me.  1  have  lived  nearly  all  my  life  in 
Europe.  1  can  only  remember  my  girlhood  in  America, 
but  the  South  is  filled  with  the  romance  and  love  of  the 
bold  and  chivalrous  cavaliers  and  their  descendants. 
I  can  remember  the  honest,  clean  love-making  of  those 
young  Southern  men  who  flocked  around  my  sister  and 
me  as  bees  around  their  queen.  You  would  be  horrified 
at  the  freedom  which  was  accorded  us — long,  happy 
days  alone  together,  longer  evenings  spent  in  swinging 
in  hammocks,  driving  about  in  the  sweet  summer  dark 
ness,  boating,  picnicking,  dancing,  entirely  unchap- 
eroned,  never  needing  one,  and  perfectly  safe  in  the 
chivalry  of  our  Southern  men.  The  chivalry  of  the 
South  is  the  real  chivalry.  There  a  man  protects  a 
woman  from  even  himself.  Here  a  man  rescues  a  wom 
an  from  one  danger  only  to  place  her  in  a  worse  one,  and 
will  protect  her  from  every  man  but  himself.  But  a  life 
time  of  Europe  has  changed  all  that  for  me.  I  would 
not  allow  my  daughter  to  go  even  to  her  grandfather's 
homestead  and  have  the  liberty  her  mother  had.  She 
would  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  1  would  not  trust 
my  son  to  go  there  and  have  the  freedom  of  the  other 
young  American  fellows.  My  friends'  daughters  would 
not  be  safe  with  him.  And  yet,  being  as  thoroughly 
Europeanized  as  I  am,  the  insults  put  upon  me  by  my 
husband's  family,  their  cruel  demands  upon  me  for 
money,  the  knowledge  that  even  though  I  had  restored 
to  them  their  estates  in  Spain,  their  sacred  burying- 
ground,  and  their  thrice  sacred  dead,  yet  all  the  time  I 
was  still  an  alien,  still  '  the  American  '  to  them — never 
'  daughter,'  or  '  sister  ' — all  this  has  kept  me  an  Ameri 
can  at  heart.  And  so  I  grieve  when  I  hear  that  an  eager 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

young  soul  like  the  girl  in  the  rich  American  family  we 
are  asked  here  to  discuss,  is  coming  to  France  for  a  title, 
for  it  means  disillusionment,  chagrin,  mortification, 
dissembling  to  her  family  and  friends,  and  in  the  end 
heart-break  for  herself." 

"  You  know  her,  then  ?"  said  the  due. 

"  Yes,  1  know  her.  Two  years  ago  1  was  in  America 
on  business,  and  I  took  her  down  to  New.  Orleans  with 
me,  together  with  three  other  young  girls,  for  Mardi 
Gras.  She  created  a  perfect  furore,  although  she  was 
so  young.  There  was  an  American  man-of-war  in  the 
harbor  at  the  time,  and  they  gave  a  dance  on  board, 
ostensibly  for  me,  but  in  reality  it  was  for  Rose  Hollen- 
den.  She  danced  nearly  all  night  with  such  freshness, 
such  enthusiasm,  that  I  was  delighted,  and  through  it 
all  she  was  so  unconscious  of  the  charm  she  exercised 
upon  young  and  old  that  even  I  thought  it  marvellous. 
She  is  an  original.  She  will  shock  you  all  horribty, 
but  she  is  a  rare  soul.  Her  unconventionality  comes 
from  unconsciousness  of  self,  which  to  me,  after  these 
fluttering,  flushing,  shyly  demure  French  girls,  is  a 
delight." 

"  Have  you  heard  about  Lulu  and  Francine  de  Fleu- 
ry  ?"  asked  the  due. 

"No.     What  have  they  done?" 

"  Well,  they  have  learned  English,  and  have  read 
some  American  novels,  and  now  they  have  declared 
war  on  French  customs.  Once  every  week  they  inform 
the  duchesse  that  they  are  going  shopping,  comme  les 
Americaines.  They  wear  American  clothes,  and  come 
to  town  alone  and  lunch  at  caf£s  alone,  and  go  to  the 
shops,  and  Heaven  knows  where,  and  come  home  de 
lighted  with  their  freedom.  It  is  of  no  use  for  the  du 
chesse  to  send  a  maid,  or  to  try  to  follow  them  herself. 
They  bribe  the  maids  and  trick  their  mother,  and  de 
clare  for  American  freedom." 

152 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  baronne  laughed. 

"  Poor  Duchesse  de  Fleury  !"  she  said.  *  I  can  imag 
ine  her  fluent  denunciation  of  my  nation.  But,  alas  ! 
that  is  not  American  freedom.  That  is  American  li 
cense,  and  you  French  can  never  be  made  to  understand 
that  America  is  so  totally  different  as  to  be  inexplicable 
to  you.  That  would  be  quite  proper  in  America — I 
mean  for  two  young  girls  to  go  shopping  alone.  They 
often  do  lunch  alone  in  the  most  elegant  restaurants, 
but  of  that,  personally,  I  do  not  approve,  and  the  best 
element  in  American  society  shares  my  prejudices." 

"  What  will  be  the  ideas  of  this  rich  young  girl  when 
she  arrives  in  Paris  ?" 

"  She  will  expect  to  be  surrounded  by  beaux  as  she  has 
been  at  home.  She  will,  I  am  afraid,  bring  her  ideas  of 
American  freedom  to  French  soil,  where  they  will  with 
er  and  die." 

"  You  think  she  will  wish  to  be  surrounded  by  men, 
this  '  rare  soul/  as  you  call  her  ?"  said  the  Frenchman, 
in  a  shocked  voice. 

The  baronne  laughed. 

"  To  be  surrounded  by  men  in  American  society  is  no 
insult,  as  it  is  here.  Again,  I  must  beg  you  to  remem 
ber  that  all  men  are  not  French,  and  that  there  is  a  na 
tion  whose  men  can  approach  a  woman  without  poison 
ing  her  with  their  thoughts.  In  Paris,  to  say  of  a  French 
woman  that  in  society  she  is  always  surrounded  by 
men  is  generally  equivalent  to  saying,  '  Elle  a  beau- 
coup  de  temperament. '  But  in  America,  to  be  surround 
ed  by  men,  to  excite  little  rivalries  and  jealousies,  to  be 
obliged  to  divide  dances  among  three  or  four  eager  as 
pirants,  to  wear  flowers  from  one  man  and  carry  the 
bouquets  of  several  others,  so  to  tease  and  tantalize  the 
men  that  they  are  driven  nearly  tovdespair  or  raised 
to  a  pinnacle  of  bliss  by  frowns  or  smiles,  all  these  con 
stitute  the  innocent  coquetry  of  the  young  girls  in  my 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

country — and  the  more  lovers  one  has,  the  more  of  a  belle 
and  a  toast  she  is  in  the  South.  Here — here  such  a 
course  would  declass  her  at  once.  But  an  American 
girl  never  can  be  brought  to  understand  that  it  is  no 
compliment  to  be  surrounded  by  men.  She  turns  in 
loathing  from  the  real  truth,  and,  in  the  innocence  of 
her  own  mind,  forgets  from  hour  to  hour  the  warnings 
given  her  that  no  Parisian  can  entertain  the  slightest 
sentiment  for  a  woman  which  is  not  at  the  same  time 
an  insult  to  her  womanhood.  They  try  to  believe  it, 
but  they  forget — they  are  so  accustomed  to  the  inno 
cent,  chivalrous  love  of  their  American  lovers." 

"  America  must  be  very  stupid,"  observed  the  due. 

"  On  the  contrary,  with  your  sensitive  nature,  your 
delight  in  brilliant  dialogue,  your  love  of  beauty,  you 
would  adore  some  of  my  countrywomen.  You  would 
find  them  lacking  in  this  particular,  however.  You 
love  art  for  its  inherent  qualities.  They  love  it,  or  seek  it 
rather,  from  curiosity,  a  restless  craving  to  be  au  courant, 
and  from  a  love  of  ownership.  Thus  comparatively  few 
Americans  care  for  a  copy  of  a  work  of  art,  no  matter 
how  fine.  They  want  the  original,  and  if  the  news 
papers  every  now  and  then  will  print  a  paragraph 
stating  the  owners  of  certain  gems,  with  the  price  paid, 
they  will  cut  it  out  and  feel  tremendously  flattered  thereby. 
You  care  to  see  a  statue  in  order  to  learn  it  by  heart  and 
to  carry  it  with  you  in  your  mind's  eye.  That  is  the 
chief  difference  between  Anglo-Saxon  women  of  fashion 
and  continental  society.  Here  to  be  a  woman  of  fashion 
means  that  one  is  surrounded  by  all  that  is  best  in  liter 
ature  and  art  and  music  and  politics.  In  America  it 
means  simply — clothes  I  We  do  not  really  honor  our  own 
explorers  or  scientific  discoverers  or  artists  for  any 
reason  except  curiosity.  And  we  never  even  give  them 
the  one  dinner  which  curiosity  prompts  unless  they  have 
been  recognized  by  Paris  or  London  newspapers  first. 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Americans  treat  music  and  fine  paintings  and  lovely 
statues  to  far  less  of  real  interest  than  they  accord  to 
terrapin  and  champagne.  So  that  you  would  be  dis 
tressed  by  all  this  at  first.  But  if  you  were  so  fortu 
nate  as  to  become  acquainted  with  the  frank,  clever, 
true  American  character  which  lies  beneath  the  frivol 
ity,  you  might  meet  some  fine  men  whose  love  you 
would  wear  in  your  soul  as  its  choicest  treasure,  and 
you  might  find  a  woman  who  would  give  you  that 
gift  which  is  rarer  than  love,  friendship  —  a  friend 
ship  which  would  give  you  a  new  insight  into  life,  it 
would  be  so  frank,  so  piquant,  so  daring  and  yet  so 
crystal." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  the  real  widow, 
"  that  this  Rose  Hollenden  has  never  had  any  education 
to  speak  of.  1  heard  that  she  talked  through  her  nose 
and  used  bad  grammar.  She  hails  from  the  Pacific 
coast,  doesn't  she  ?  1  suppose  she  is  provincial,  then, 
and  says  '  1  seen '  and  all  those  sort  of  things. " 

The  baronne  covered  her  lips  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  What  a  pity  you  do  not  use  your  English  more," 
she  murmured  to  the  due.  "Mrs.  Farnsworth  meant 
'  English '  when  she  said  '  grammar  '  and  '  that  sort 
of  thing '  for  '  those  sort.'  Imagine  that  woman  com 
menting  on  Rose  Hollenden !" 

"  Why,  there  is  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil !"  said  Mrs. 
Bobbie  Scott.  "  I  don't  know  him,  but  I've  seen  him 
driving.  He  is  the  one  with  the  beautiful  hands  which 
are  painted  so  often.  I  wish  1  knew  him  !  1  would  like 
to  go  back  to  America  and  say  that  1  knew  The  Man 
With  the  Hands." 

"  I  know  him,"  said  the  Marquise  Hennessy.  "  He  is 
a  great  favorite  of  mine — almost  as  much  of  a  favorite 
as  the  Due  de  Briancourt !" 

"  Thank  you,  marquise  !"  said  the  young  man,  bow 
ing.  Then  to  the  baronne  he  muttered  : 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  It  is  so  foolish  of  Raoul  to  arrange  a  rendezvous 
here.  It  is  too  public." 

"  You  think  she  is  here  ?" 

"  1  saw  her  enter  that  small  pavilion  on  the  left.  Ah, 
he  caught  my  signal.  What  a  pity  that  all  these  people 
have  seen  him !" 

"Why?" 

"  Why,  because  he  intends  to  marry  your  Made 
moiselle  Hollenden.  He  went  to  America  to  investigate 
her  fortune  and  returned  on  the  same  ship  with  them." 

"  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil !  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil !" 
gasped  the  baronne,  looking  curiously  at  the  due. 
Then  she  added,  "  Never  !  He  shall  never  marry  Rose  !" 

"  Who  will  prevent  it  ?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"  I  shall,  if  it  cannot  be  managed  otherwise." 

"  Are  you  saving  her  for  me  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  baronne,  gently.  "  Much  as  I  care  for 
you,  my  friend,  much  as  1  admire  your  charming  quali 
ties  of  mind  and  your  excellent  heart,  1  would  not  like  to 
see  that  bonnie  girl  marry  any  European." 

"There  goes  Calve1,"  said  the  Marquis  Larry  Hen- 
nessy. 

"  And  there  is  the  editor  of  Figaro  just  in  front  of 
Yvette  Guilbert.  Last  night  she  was  singing  at  the 
Cafe  des  Ambassadeurs,"  said  the  Due  de  Briancourt. 
"  And  ah,  there  comes  my  young  American  girl  who 
bought  a  cab-horse  last  night  in  front  of  the  Hotel  Conti 
nental  !" 

"  What  ?  What  do  you  say  ?  Why,  that  is  Rose  ! 
Where  did  you  see  her  ?  Tell  me  about  it  instantly. 
See,  isn't  she  lovely  ?  She  has  Sir  Arthur  Carteret  and 
her  brother  with  her.  That  little  white  -  haired  man 
must  be  her  father.  I  never  have  seen  him.  But  what 
an  atrocious  maid  she  has  to  carry  her  dog.  And  how 
can  Rose  allow  her  to  dress  in  that  manner." 

"  That  isn't  her  dog,"  said  the  due.     "  Her  dog  is—" 

156 


"  And  that  isn't  her  maid.  It  is  her  sister — the  one 
who  lives  in  the  entresol  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy's 
apartment-house  in  the  rue  Marbeuf,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Farnsworth. 

"Ah,  mon  Dieu!  and  is  that  poor  creature  Maria 
Hollenden  ?"  murmured  the  baronne.  "  Her  ugliness 
is  more  than  pathetic.  It  is  tragic." 

"  If  that  is  your  Mademoiselle  Hollenden,  your  lovely 
American  Rose,  I  begin  to  understand  her  somewhat/' 
said  the  due. 

"  I  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Farnsworth,  "  that  she  is  so 
proud  of  her  father's  wealth  that  she  stops  any  horse 
she  takes  a  fancy  to  and  buys  it  from  the  curb-stone,  no 
matter  who  the  owner.  I  heard  that  she  loved  a  sensa 
tion  above  everything,  and  stopped  at  nothing  in  order 
to  gain  it." 

"  1  heard  that  she  allowed  her  dog  to  attack  a  cab- 
driver  who  had  offended  her,  and  that  she  would  have 
been  arrested  if  her  brother  hadn't  bribed  a  gendarme," 
said  Lady  Gregory. 

"  1  heard  that  she  refused  to  be  seen  driving  with  her 
sister  from  the  station,  but  took  her  maid  and  a  friend  in 
the  carriage  with  her,  and  sent  her  brother  and  sister 
home  in  common  cabs,"  said  the  Marquise  Hennessy. 

"  1  know  that  she  did  buy  a  cab-horse  last  night  in 
front  of  her  hotel,"  said  the  Due  de  Briancourt,  "  for  1 
was  there  and  saw  her." 

The  baronne  listened  disdainfully  to  these  rumors. 

*  Do  tell  us  about  it,"  said  the  Comte  de  Cass6. 

"  Well,  her  dog  is  the  most  magnificent  specimen  of  a 
German  bloodhound  that  I  ever  saw  !  Her  brother  very 
kindly  took  him  in  a  cab  to  the  hotel,  but  had  a  cocker 
more  unskilled  than  usual,  who  ran  into  and  over  sev 
eral  persons  and  so  injured  his  horse  that  the  poor  brute 
ought  to  have  been  shot.  Evidently  this  young  Ameri 
can  girl  understands  horses,  for  she  looked  him  over, 

157 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

made  the  cocker  stop  beating  him,  and  asked  what  was 
to  be  done  with  him.  The  gendarme  said  he  would 
probably  be  sold  to  the  doctors  for  vivisection.  With 
that  this  glorious  young  girl,  who  had  managed  the 
enraged  cocker,  her  fine  dog,  and  the  whole  situation 
with  dignity  and  courage,  sank  back  with  a  cry  of  com 
passion  and  fell  to  trembling  so  for  pity  of  a  poor,  mis 
erable  Paris  cab-horse,  that  1  was  ready  to  offer  my  life 
in  her  defence  !  She  was  so  beautiful  and  in  such  dis 
tress.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  her  brother  and 
said  something  in  English,  which  afterwards  1  heard 
was  a  request  to  buy  him  for  her  and  have  him  shot 
without  delay.  That,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  the  true 
report.  May  I  have  the  honor  of  offering  a  toast  to  the 
courage  of  that  young  girl — to  her  courage  and  to  her 
compassion  !" 

"  You  are  charming,  my  friend,  perfectly  charming," 
whispered  the  baronne.  "  Let  us  excuse  ourselves  and 
go  to  speak  with  them." 

"Ah,  those  Americans  !  They  eat  each  other  like 
wolves,"  answered  the  due,  as  he  strolled  at  her  side. 

The  Hollendens  were  the  centre  of  attraction  at  a 
modest  little  table  in  the  middle  of  the  garden.  Rose 
had  just  demanded  with  a  generous  coin  dropped  in  the 
Tzigane's  plate,  for  him  to  repeat  the  "  Sourire  d' Avril " 
waltz  they  had  been  playing,  when  she  turned  and  saw 
the  baronne.  Without  pausing  to  think,  the  young  girl 
sprang  up  and  flung  her  arms  round  her  friend,  holding 
her  in  a  close  embrace  with  her  cheek  pressed  to  the 
baronne's.  Then  she  held  her  off  at  arm's-length  and 
looked  at  her  with  such  sincere  affection  that  the  older 
woman  felt  a  pang  of  pity  for  her  fresh  young  enthu 
siasm.  The  baronne  knew  what  Paris  does  for  the 
soul. 

"  Come  !"  cried  Rose.  "  1  want  to  walk  about  and  see 
things,  and  Maria  won't!  You  have  chaperoned  me 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

too  many  times  to  flinch  now  1  How  fascinating  Paris 
is  !  How  many  things  there  are  to  see  and  hear !  The 
music  and  laughter  and  general  gayety  intoxicate  me. 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  walking  on  air.  Who  says  Paris  is 
wicked  and  full  of  blackness  and  vice  ?  It  is  like  a 
Great  White  City.  It  is  so  clean  and  sweet.  And  oh, 
*  the  beauty,  the  beauty  of  it  !  1  can't  look  in  any  direc 
tion  that  is  not  lovely  !  Why  did  no  one  tell  me  how  1 
would  adore  it?" 

"  1  did,"  said  Townshend,  "  but  you  would  not  be 
lieve  me." 

"  1  believe  you  now  !"  cried  Rose.  "  Let  us  leave  the 
others  a  few  moments  and  you  and  the  baronne  take 
me  over  there.  1  want  to  go  up  there  where  you  were 
dining.  1  want  to  see  things." 

The  others  laughed  and  let  her  go.  Rose  was  quite 
unconscious  of  the  curious  comments  upon  her  as  she 
looked  with  such  eager  enthusiasm  into  the  upturned 
faces  of  the  men  and  women  who  sat  at  the  little  tables 
by  which  she  passed.  Her  rose-colored  skirts  trailed 
softly  after  her  and  her  great  beauty  drew  the  eyes  of 
the  men  after  her  irresistibly. 

"  What  is  over  there  ?"  she  said. 

"  Let  us  take  her,"  whispered  Townshend,  leading 
the  way  at  the  baronne's  side.  "  She  is  too  innocent  to 
understand  all  that  she  sees.  It  gives  me  a  pang  to 
find  that  she  will  go  to  all  these  places.  It  is  of  no  use 
to  deny  her.  She  has  already  asked  me  to  take  her  to 
the  Neuilly  Fair  and  to  the  Isle  de  Puteau  for  tennis 
and  to  the  Folies-Bergere,  because  a  little  American 
dancer  crossed  with  us  who  is  to  dance  there.  I  took 
her  about  in  New  York  and  London  for  a  few  days,  and 
when  1  hinted  very  delicately  that  I  could  not  do  it  here, 
she  gave  me  one  clear,  reproachful  look  from  those  fear 
less  American  eyes  of  hers,  and  I  have  not  dared  to  re 
peat  my  warning.  But  it  breaks  my  heart  to  refuse  her 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

anything.  Or  to  have  her  know  Paris,"  he  added,  in  a 
low  tone. 

The  baronne  glanced  up  at  him. 

"  You  love  her,"  she  said. 

Townshend  took  off  his  hat. 

"  I  do,"  he  said,  simply. 

"  Ah,  I  am  so  glad  !"  she  said,  clapping  her  hands 
softly.  "  Not  because  you  are  my  cousin,  but  because 
you  will  save  her  from  a  French  marriage." 

"  You  do  not  know  her,  or  you  would  feel  as  I  often 
do,  that  I  have  no  chance  with  her,  because  I  cannot 
'do  things.'  She  wants  a  hero." 

"  1  may  not  know  her,  but  I  know  you,  and  I  know 
that  you  will  marry  her.  You  never  have  failed  in  any 
thing  yet,  Sterling  !" 

"  Well,  I  fully  intend  to  ask  her,"  answered  the  man, 
steadily.  "  Where  is  she  ?  Can  she  hear  us  ?" 

"  No,  she  has  stopped  to  button  her  glove.  Let  us 
wait  for  her." 

"  Well,  what  shall  I  do  about  taking  her  to  these 
places  ?" 

"  Take  her,  by  all  means  !  1  will  invite  both  of  you 
to  go  with  me." 

"  But  to  all  Paris  ?"  cried  Townshend.  "  Think  what 
you  are  undertaking.  You  have  too  many  affairs  of 
your  own." 

"  Would  it  bore  you  to  go  with  her  ?"  asked  his  cousin. 
*  You  have  been  to  all  these  places." 

"  But  I  love  her,"  he  answered,  quietly. 

"  And  I,"  said  the  baronne.  "  I,  too,  love  her,  and 
therefore  she  will  make  these  old  places  seem  new  and 
strange  and  fresh  to  me,  as  she  will  to  you.  Love  will 
do  that  always,  either  for  man  or  woman." 

Rose  saw  them  waiting  for  her,  yet  still  she  stood  ap 
parently  buttoning  her  glove.  They  were  very  pa 
tient,  she  reflected,  and  though  only  a  few  steps  of  sum- 

160 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

mer  darkness  separated  them,  yet  she  could  not  drag 
her  feet  from  where  she  stood,  paralyzed  by  fragments 
of  a  conversation  which  emanated  from  one  of  the  tiny 
pavilions  of  the  other  side  of  the  garden  from  the  band 
and  the  diners. 

The  music  of  .the  "  Sourire  d'Avril,"  played  as  only 
those  Tziganes  can  play,  came  faintly  to  her  ears. 
Rose  never  heard  that  waltz  afterwards  without  re 
membering  Armenonville. 

One  voice  she  recognized  as  Raoul  d'Auteuil's,  which 
said,  as  she  was  passing  : 

"  But  if  I  will  place  her  rich  brother  Shirley  in  your 
power,  will  you  give  me  back  my  notes?  Consider,  it 
may  be  years  before  1  can  pay  them.  I  may  never  get 
so  much  money." 

"  Ah,  but  you  do  not  understand,"  said  a  woman's 
voice.  "  It  is  you  I  love ;  not  the  money  !  Consider 
what  a  love  I  give  you  !  Can  any  other  woman  give 
so  much  ?  Who  else  will  adore  you  as  I  ?  Think  of 
the  love  I  have  cast  aside  for  yours !  Who  else  will 
admire  your  beautiful  features  and  care  for  your  ex 
quisite  hands  as  I  do  ?  What  other  woman  will  kneel 
at  your  feet  as  I  have  knelt,  and  as  I  will  kneel  again — 
I,  who  love  you  so  !  Ah,  Raoul  !  Raoul  !  Consider 
well  before  you  cast  such  a  love  aside.  Consider  well 
before  you  make  me  your  enemy.  Is  it  money  that  you 
wish  ?  See,  1  have  plenty.  I  was  rich  before  I  knew 
you.  I  will  take  care  of  you  again,  and  never  give  the 
money  a  thought.  I  will  burn  the  notes  before  your 
eyes.  I  will  be  your  slave  if  only  you  will  give  up  this 
odious  American  marriage  !" 

"  Oh,  my  adored  one  !  Why  do  you  make  it  so  hard 
for  me  ?  If  you  really  loved  me  as  you  say,  you  would 
save  me.  My  debts  are  enormous.  Disgrace  and  ruin 
stare  me  in  the  face.  I  must  have  millions,  not  thou 
sands,  and  it  would  beggar  you  to  pay  my  debts.  Allow 
L  161 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

me  to  make  this  marriage.  It  shall  be  one  of  form  only. 
Let  me  take  the  sister  and  you  take  the  brother  just 
long  enough  to  enrich  ourselves.  It  is  you  only  whom 
I  love  1  You  only  who  are  enshrined  in  my  soul !  Be 
generous  and  save  me,  my  beautiful  one  !  My  love  !" 

Raoul's  voice  shook  with  feeling  wholly  new  to  Rose. 
He  had  never  pleaded  with  her  in  such  tones. 

"  No,  no  !  You  are  deceiving  me  !  I  know  you  men. 
You  always  promise  and  promise,  but  marriage  de 
stroys  women  like  me.  The  establishment,  the  wife, 
the  child  count  more  with  you  than  love.  Even  the 
brown  water-rat  will  be  more  to  you  than  your  poor  Lili." 

"  Come,  come,  little  one.  Be  thankful  that  I  am  not 
going  to  marry  the  tall,  beautiful  sister,  who  might 
rival  you.  Cheer  up,  and  promise  to  accept  the  rich 
brother,  and  give  me  back  those  notes,  and  for  the  rest, 
it  will  adjust  itself." 

"  Come,  Rose,  let  me  help  you,  dear,"  called  the  ba- 
ronne,  coming  towards  her.  "  Why,  how  cold  your  hand 
is,  my  child  !  And  your  arm  !  And  even  your  cheeks  ! 
You  ought  never  to  have  come  out  in  that  thin  gown  ! 
Get  her  wrap,  Sterling,  and  order  her  something  hot  and 
spiced  to  drink.  Come,  Rose,  walk  a  little  faster,  child. 
You  are  so  white,  1  am  afraid  you  have  got  a  chill." 

"  Well,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  as  he  covered  her  shoulders 
with  her  wrap  and  seated  himself  at  her  side,  "  are  you 
beginning  to  realize  Paris  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Rose,  quietly.  "  I  have  been  here  but 
twenty-four  hours,  yet  I  am  beginning  to  realize  Paris." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

/  •  • 

"CHILDREN,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden  one  afternoon,  "I 
want  to  have  a  talk  with  you.  Maria,  I  have  decided  on 
something  which  will  please  you.  Take  your  hat  off  and 
put  that  dog  down.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  caught  smok 
ing  a  cigarette  when  I  see  that  cur.  Shut  her  up  in  the 
little  salon,  Marie.  I  don't  care  if  she  is  a  full  sister  of 
the  one  owned  by  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  ;  1  can't  stand 
her  after  1  have  had  the  pleasure  of  Peter  the  Great's  ac 
quaintance.  She  looks  like  a  skinned  rat.  Now,  then, 
as  a  beginning,  Shirley  and  I  have  ordered  the  finest 
carriages  to  be  had  in  Paris.  A  victoria  for  you  Maria,  a 
dog-cart  for  Rose,  an  automobile  for  Shirley,  two  or 
three  traps  for  any  of  you,  a  brougham  for  myself,  and  a 
landau  like  the  English  ambassador's.  Shirley  is  at 
tending  to  the  horses  with  Townshend's  help.  I  am  in 
clined  to  think  he  knows  even  more  about  horses  than 
Sir  Arthur,  Shirley. 

"  Then  1  have  arranged  to  disembarrass  ourselves  of 
all  the  apartment-houses  that  Maria's  French  friends 
had  so  thoughtfully  saddled  on  her  before  I  came.  We 
never  could  have  lived  in  so  small  a  house  as  that  in  the 
rue  de  Chaillot.  I  have  sublet  it  at  a  loss  of  ten  thou 
sand  francs  a  year  to  Sharp,  the  American  ambassador." 

"  Oh,  father  !"  cried  Rose,  in  dismay.  "A  house  not 
fine  enough  for  us  let  to  the  ambassador  of  the  United 
States !  How  dreadful !  How  humiliating  for  Amer 
ica  !" 

*  Well,  it  is  America's  fault,"  said  Shirley.  "  We  only 

163 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

pay  our  ambassadors  seventeen  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars  a  year.  We  furnish  him  with  no  embassy,  and 
there  is  no  nation  on  earth  which,  when  travelling, 
comes  and  plants  itself  upon  its  ambassador  and  expects 
to  be  entertained  by  him  as  the  American  does.  Look 
at  Lord  Lucknow,  the  English  ambassador !  Look  at 
his  salary  !  Look  at  his  expense  fund  for  entertaining ! 
It  is  only  proper  that  national  entertaining  should  be 
done  at  the  nation's  expense." 

"  Mrs.  Sharp  told  me  that  it  would  be  months  before 
they  could  get  into  their  house,  as  they  have  to  select  and 
buy  all  the  furnishings  of  it.  Think  what  a  trouble  ! 
And  in  the  mean  time  they  are  lodged  in  four  rooms  at 
this  hotel — representing  seventy  millions  of  people  !" 
cried  Rose. 

"  Now  don't  get  so  excited,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 
"  Remember  that  America  is  a  democracy  and  we  have 
no  use  for  display.  Seventeen  thousand  five  hundred  is 
plenty  of  money,  and  if  Sharp  is  smart  he  can  do  a  great 
deal  with  it.  How  we  would  look  sporting  an  embassy 
like  Lord  Lucknow's  !" 

"  We  would  look  just  as  well  supporting  as  fine  an 
embassy  as  England's  as  England  does.  We  ought  to 
maintain  our  dignity  with  the  best  of  them.  Isn't 
America  the  best  countn7  in  the  world  ?"  cried  Rose. 

"  I  wonder  what  our  tax-payers  in  Kansas  and  Illinois 
and  Colorado  would  say  to  that  !"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  what  those  people  would  say  ! 
It  is  the  dignity  of  America  that  I  am  thinking  of,"  said 
Rose,  with  her  eyes  flashing. 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  worry  over  such  a  silly  thing  as 
that,"  said  Maria.  "  Just  as  if  America  cared  how  it 
was  represented  !  If  you  complain  about  the  ambassa 
dor  to  France,  I  don't  know  what  you  would  say  about 
the  ambassador  to  Germany,  Mr.  Gray.  He  is  living  in 
an  apartment  with  three  other  families  under  him." 

164 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,"  cried  Rose,  getting  up  and  walking  about,  "  I 
don't  see  how  I  can  bear  it !  Papa,  do  you  suppose  the 
people  at  home  know  of  these  things  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  know,  but  they  don't  care." 

"  Oh,  those  lovely  Grays  !  So  cultivated,  so  charm 
ing,  so  capable-  of  managing  a  chateau  or  a  palace  ! 
They  know  how  they  ought  to  be  lodged  !  How  they 
must  feel,  being  obliged  to  live  in  a  flat  \" 

"  Oh,  an  apartment  in  Berlin  or  Paris  is  not  quite  as 
bad  as  a  flat  in  Chicago,  Rose,"  said  Shirley. 

"  No,  not  quite,"  cried  Rose.  "  Nevertheless,  an '  apart 
ment  '  is  only  an  Europeanized  flat.  You  have  to  live 
on  one  floor  and  have  families  over  and  under  you. 
I  can't  see  very  much  dignity  in  that  even  for  a  private 
citizen  who  could  have  a  house.  And  as  for  an  am 
bassador — not  a  minister,  mind  you  !  we  have  dignified 
five  of  our  representatives  with  the  title  of  ambassador  so 
that  they  need  not  be  ranked  by  ambassadors  from  little 
miserable  South  American  republics,  and  so  that  at  a 
state  dinner  the  representatives  of  seventy  millions  of 
people  need  not  sit  with  the  nursery  governesses  and 
boys'  tutors — for  an  ambassador  giving  an  official  re 
ception,  and  using  an  entrance  which  belongs  jointly  to 
four  or  five  other  families — nothing  private,  nothing 
dignified,  nothing  as  it  should  be — oh,  it  is  humiliating  !" 

"At  one  of  the  Grays'  official  receptions  the  English 
ambassador  and  his  wife  were  blockaded  at  the  door  by  a 
baby-carriage  belonging  to  the  family  in  the  first  flat," 
said  Maria,  maliciously,  just  to  enrage  her  sister. 

"  Our  government  knows  that  the  salaries  paid  to  its 
ambassadors  are  inadequate,  therefore  it  takes  pains  to 
appoint  only  public-spirited  men  of  wealth,  who  will 
only  be  too  glad  to  supply  all  public  deficits  out  of  their 
private  purses  !"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  with  a  sneer. 

"Townshend  says  the  last  ambassador  to  Russia  lived 
for  a  year  at  the  Hotel  d'Europe  in  St.  Petersburg  and 

165 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

never  entertained  at  all,  "because  he  was  a  poor  man," 
said  Shirley. 

"  Well,  it's  your  government,  children,  that  you  are 
all  so  rabid  about.  As  for  me,  1  have  always  attended 
to  my  own  affairs  and  made  money.  Now  you  will 
have  an  opportunity  to  see  how  this  precious  America 
of  yours  is  regarded  by  foreigners." 

"  Don't  say  that  it  is  -my  country,  father,"  said  Maria. 
"  I  never  claimed  America.  I  happened  to  be  born  there, 
but  France  is  my  country,  both  by  adoption  and  prefer 
ence.  I  hate  America  and  Americans." 

"  Well,  if  you  think  that,  at  least  never  let  me  hear 
you  say  so  again  in  my  presence,  Maria,"  said  Shirley. 

Maria  looked  up  to  make  a  defiant  reply,  but  changed 
her  mind  when  she  saw  her  brother's  face. 

"  We  are  off  the  subject,"  put  in  Mr.  Hollenden,  pacifi 
cally.  "  I  have  practically  rented  that  hotel,  as  they 
call  it,  to  Sharp,  and  I  am  going  to  take  you  all  to-day 
to  look  at  another  one  that  Townshend  thinks  he  can 
get  for  us.  The  Baronne  Valencia  is  negotiating  for 
it,  and  thinks,  if  I  am  willing  to  pay  an  enormous  bonus, 
that  she  can  persuade  the  people  to  move  out  and  let  us 
have  it  just  as  it  is.  She  says  the  tapestries  are  price 
less.  They  have  only  recently  been  purchased  from 
some  ancient  chateau  down  near  her  own — I  forget  the 
name — and  that  they  are  from  the  oldest  and  finest  col 
lection  in  France.  If  I  find  that  all  this  is  true  (and  I 
want  Maria  to  see  the  house  and  tell  me),  I  will  pay  any 
price  to  get  it.  Maria  is  the  only  one  of  us  who  knows 
about  antiquities." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  not  true  about  the  tapestries," 
she  said.  "  The  collection  at  Vrianault  is  said  to  be  the 
finest  in  France." 

"  Most  of  these  things  came  from  Vrianault — that's 
the  name,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  removing  his  glasses. 

"  Impossible  !"  cried  Maria,  with  starting  eyes. 

1 66 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  That's  what  the  baronne  said,"  repeated  Mr  Hol- 
lenden. 

Maria  at  once  resolved  never  to  speak  to  the  marquise 
or  the  comtesse  upon  the  subject  until  she  controlled  suf 
ficient  money  to  repurchase  them.  Her  heart  beat  fast 
with  pleasure  at  the  idea  that  it  would  be  her  privilege 
to  do  so  much  for  the  mother  of  Raoul.  She  knew  that 
the  heart  of  the  marquise  was  absolutely  bound  up  in 
Vrianault,  and  that  to  part  with  any  of  its  magnificence 
must  nearly  have  killed  her.  How  the  American  ad 
mired  the  fortitude  with  which  the  Frenchwomen  had 
borne  the  blow,  and  the  pride  with  which  they  had  con 
cealed  their  losses  ! 

"  As  to  Maria's  entresol,  that  is  a  small  matter  in  com 
parison.  I  can  sublet  that  later,  or  it  wouldn't  abso 
lutely  impoverish  me  to  leave  it  vacant.  But  I  want  a 
fine  place  to  entertain  all  your  fine  friends,  Maria,  and 
I  want  you  to  take  Rose  in  hand  and  teach  her  about  art. 
She  must  learn  from  you  all  the  things  you  have  ab 
sorbed  from  many  years  of  European  travel.  Shirley, 
how  would  you  like  to  study  art,  and  have  a  studio  over 
in  the  Latin  quarter  ?  Maria  thinks  it  an  excellent 
idea." 

"  1  want  to  enter  the  army,  father.  You  know  that  I 
have  no  taste  for  painting.  I  couldn't  draw  a  straight 
line." 

"  One  doesn't  draw  straight  lines  in  art,"  observed 
Maria.  "  It  seems  a  wise  course  to  pursue,  1  think.  1 
have  studied  in  Julian's  studio  for  ten  years,  and  he 
thinks  1  have  talent.  There  is  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't  have.  The  American  army  is  so  vulgar.  It 
is  not  like  European  armies,  which  have  size  and  stand 
ing  and  command  respect  because  the  aristocracy  are 
among  their  officers.  I  am  mortified  every  time  any  one 
asks  the  size  of  our  army,  and  if  I  speak  of  our  navy, 
people  laugh." 

167 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  We  have  never  had  a  chance  to  show  what  we  could 
do  with  our  navy,"  said  Shirley,  firmly.  "  Just  let  a 
war  come  on,  and  see  what  we  could  do." 

"  Pooh  !"  said  Maria.  "  American  brag  and  blow  ! 
I  have  heard  too  much  of  it  to  believe  a  word  you  say. 
I  want  you  to  study  art.  That  is  a  career  in  which  you 
would  make  a  name  for  yourself.  You  might  be  a 
great  painter.  You  ought  to  see  the  Comtesse  de  Bris- 
sy's  work  !" 

"  Paint  !"  cried  Shirley.  "  I  couldn't  paint  signs  !  I 
couldn't  whitewash  a  fence  !  Father,  I  wish  you  would 
not  listen  to  Maria's  silly  ideas  of  making  me  into  a 
long-haired  decadent,  like  some  of  her  friends  !  I  want 
to  enter  the  army  !" 

"  I  don't  care  to  have  you  in  the  army,  Shirley,"  said 
his  father.  "  That  would  take  you  back  to  America, 
and,  in  all  probability,  we  shall  never  live  there  again." 

"What!"  cried  Rose.  "What!  Never  live  there 
again  ?" 

The  man  entered  with  some  cards. 

"  Madame  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil,  Madame  the  Com 
tesse  de  Brissy,  and  Monsieur  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil," 
he  announced. 

Peter  the  Great  rose  and  shook  himself. 

Maria  clutched  at  her  parasol  until  the  handle  snapped. 
It  was  the  first  time  they  ever  had  called  upon  her  for 
mally. 

"  Not  one  word  about  the  furnishings  of  Vrianault," 
she  whispered. 

Peter  yawned  and  went  forward  to  meet  them. 

The  comtesse,  who  spoke  English  more  fluently  than 
her  mother,  at  once  set  herself  to  captivate  Mr.  Hollen- 
den.  Raoul  seated  himself  near  Rose  and  Maria,  and 
Shirley  devoted  himself  to  the  marquise. 

Peter  looked  all  three  of  the  visitors  over  with  solem 
nity,  wagging  his  tail  in  polite  appreciation  of  the  honor 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

of  their  visit,  then  walked  over  to  the  marquise  and  held 
out  his  paw  most  awkwardly. 

The  Frenchwoman  was  enraptured.  Color  came  into 
her  pale  cheeks,  and  she  put  both  arms  about  the  dog's 
neck,  calling  him  any  number  of  fond  French  names, 
none  of  which  Peter  understood. 

"  Speak  to  him  in  English,  marquise,"  said  Shirley. 
"  He  is  not  a  French  dog." 

"  But  my  English  is  so  imperfect,"  she  answered  him. 
"  I  am  afraid  even  your  dog  would  laugh  at  my  poor 
efforts." 

"  Not  at  all,"  eagerly  affirmed  Maria.  "  Peter  is  a 
most  intelligent  dog." 

"  Oh  my  beautiful  cabbage  !  My  adorable  mustard  ! 
My  pretty  cauliflower  !"  began  the  marquise,  translating 
her  dog  language  literally. 

Shirley  coughed.  Peter  politely  accepted  the  inter 
pretation  and  refrained  from  resenting  her  selection  of 
epithets.  He  laid  one  heavy  paw  awkwardly  on  her 
lap  and  the  other  on  her  shoulder,  looking  around 
solemnly  at  Rose,  as  if  to  say,  "  How  is  that  for  enter 
taining  the  French !" 

"  Be  careful,  Peter,"  said  Rose.  "  Your  paws  are  very 
heavy." 

Peter  took  them  down  and  laid  his  head  in  the  lap 
of  the  marquise  with  a  gusty  sigh. 

"  Oh,  what  intelligence  !  What  nobility  !"  she  cried, 
caressing  him  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  never  saw  such  a 
fine  dog.  He  is  human!  He  has  a  soul!" 

"  1  believe  he  has,"  said  Shirley.  "  I  wish  all  the  men 
I  know  had  as  excellent  a  chance  of  heaven,  according 
to  the  lives  they  have  lived,  as  Peter." 

"  He  ought  to  be  called  '  Peter  the  Great/  "  said  the 
marquise,  laughing. 

"  Why,  that  is  his  name  !"  said  her  son.  "  Clever  little 
maman,  to  have  divined  it  !" 

169 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  marquise  colored  with  pleasure. 

*  Is  it,  indeed  ?  A  most  appropriate  name,  M.  le  Tzar. 
You  may  number  me  among  your  most  loyal  subjects 
from  this  time  henceforth." 

Maria  envied  Peter  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart.  In 
all  the  several  years  of  her  acquaintance  with  the  mar 
quise  she  never  had  seen  the  old  Frenchwoman  betray 
such  enthusiasm.  She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that 
she  was  speaking  to  Americans,  for  love  of  animals 
and  compassion  for  their  sufferings  are  strong  char 
acteristics  of  the  French,  notwithstanding  that  France 
is  the  home  of  vivisection. 

"  I  never  have  seen  so  magnificent  a  creature,"  she 
said,  still  caressing  Peter,  much  to  his  satisfaction.  "  I 
suppose  he  cost  heaps  and  heaps  of  money  ?" 

Rose  crimsoned. 

"  1  never  think  of  money  in  connection  with  Peter  any 
more  than  I  do  with  a  member  of  my  family.  His  pedi 
gree  is  long  enough  to  satisfy  any  one,  but  his  nobility 
is  in  his  blood,  not  in  the  cost  of  him  !" 

"  Bravo  !"  said  the  marquise,  nodding  her  head.  "  I 
am  glad  Peter  belongs  to  you." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  he  did  ?"  asked  Raoul, 
laughing  at  the  interest  his  mother  was  displaying,  and 
knowing  that  Rose  was  pleased  by  it. 

"  Because  she  defended  him  with  such  admirable 
spirit,"  answered  the  marquise. 

"  Charming,"  said  Raoul.  "  My  mother  is  com 
pletely  fascinated." 

He  looked  into  the  young  girl's  eyes  and  wondered 
what  could  have  occurred  during  her  short  stay  in  Paris 
so  to  change  their  expression.  They  no  longer  met  his 
with  such  disconcerting  frankness,  such  an  embarrass 
ing  innocence.  He  discovered  reserve  in  their  depths,  a 
certain  wonder  and  a  vague  distrust. 

That  she  was  holding  herself  away  from  him  he  felt 

170 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

certain.  The  contrast  between  her  superb  young 
beauty,  so  clearly  revealed  by  the  searching  daylight,  and 
poor  Maria's  shrunken  figure  and  muddy  skin  maddened 
him.  The  blood  mounted  to  his  face,  and  the  veins  in 
his  temple  swelled  purple. 

"  It  is  hot  in  here,  mademoiselle;  could  we  not  sit  near 
an  open  window  ?" 

"  My  sister  dislikes  draughts,  but  we  can  open  one  in 
the  little  salon,"  said  Rose. 

She  led  the  way  into  the  next  room,  where  the  piano 
stood,  and,  seating  himself,  he  sang  to  her,  "  Si  tu  sa- 
vais !" 

Rose  leaned  her  arms  on  the  piano  and  looked  at  him. 
His  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  her  sombrely.  His  voice 
trembled  so  that  she  turned  her  head  away.  Her  white 
gown  was  made  of  lace  and  showed  the  clear  skin  of  her 
arms  and  neck  through  its  meshes .  He  stopped  abruptly 
and  came  around  to  where  she  stood.  She  looked  down 
at  him  and  remembered  in  a  burst  of  fury  that  this  man 
at  her  side  had  first  offered  himself  to  her,  then  had  ne 
gotiated  through  his  mother  for  her  sister's  hand,  had 
plotted  to  ruin  her  brother,  and,  finally,  to  pay  off  his 
mistress,  the  woman  he  really  loved,  with  her  father's 
money. 

Her  beauty,  the  strange  exhilarating  vitality  the 
young  girl  possessed,  the  electric  sense  of  nearness  to 
her,  the  touch  of  her  soft  skirts  inflamed  the  Frenchman. 
He  poured  out  into  her  ear  a  torrent  of  passion  which 
should  have  addressed  itself  to  one  accustomed  to  its 
language.  To  the  young  American  girl,  most  of  it  was 
inexplicable.  But  she  understood  enough  to  know  that 
his  words  were  an  insult  to  her  sister,  and  she  felt  dimly, 
uncertainly,  that  he  loved  neither  of  them.  Young  as 
she  was  she  knew  the  language  of  a  man  who  is  merely 
temporarily  swept  off  his  feet  and  felt  sympathy  for  him, 
but  for  this  man  of  another  race  and  another  sort  she 

171 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

felt  neither  compassion  nor  charity.  Every  drop  of 
blood  in  her  veins  resented  his  protestations  of  love. 
She  turned  on  him  like  a  tigress,  poor,  unschooled  pagan 
that  she  was,  understanding  neither  men  nor  social  con 
ditions. 

"  Marry  you  !"  she  cried.  "  Marry  you  !  I'd  rather 
marry  my  dog  !" 

She  turned  and  left  him  without  another  word.  He 
stood  and  looked  after  her,  with  his  lips  drawn  up  into 
an  ugly  smile,  and  hissing  with  his  breath  like  an  asp. 
Then  he  laughed,  and  Rose  had  made  an  enemy  for 
life  of  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil. 

When  she  re-entered  the  room,  Maria's  furious  glances 
showed  her  jealousy,  but  when  Raoul  followed  and  seated 
himself  near  her,  addressing  her  pointedly,  she  smooth 
ed  her  face  and  listened  deferentially  to  him.  It  soon 
became  evident  from  her  embarrassed  demeanor  that 
he  was  paying  violent  court  to  her,  but  as  Mr.  Hollenden 
was  entertaining  the  comtesse  with  an  amusing  history 
of  his  early  days  in  Michigan,  perhaps  that  contributed 
somewhat  to  Maria's  confusion. 

"  On  cold  winter  nights  I  used  to  build  up  a  raging 
fire,  and  one  by  one  all  the  men  would  drop  into  the  store 
(mine  was  the  only  one  in  town),  to  sit  around  until  the 
stove  got  red  hot  and  burned  the  soles  of  their  boots. 
Whenever  I  smell  scorching  leather,  I  always  think  of 
my  little  store  up  in  Michigan,  with  a  circle  of  rough 
men,  trousers  tucked  into  their  cowhide  boots,  all  chew 
ing  my  tobacco,  all  listening  to  my  yarns,  and  all  spit 
ting  at  my  red-hot  stove. 

"  I  remember  that  there  was  one  old  fellow  who  used 
to  like  to  feel  at  home  in  the  store.  He  never  wanted  to 
be  waited  on.  He'd  rather  go  and  help  himself,  and 
let  me  charge  him  double,  than  to  have  a  thing  weighed 
out  and  tied  up.  Now  the  keg  of  straight-cut  tobacco 
stood  at  the  end  of  the  counter,  in  rather  a  dark  corner. 

172 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

He  used  to  come  in  without  speaking  to  anybody,  go  to 
this  keg,  plunge  his  hand  in,  take  out  a  fistful  of  loose 
tobacco,  stick  hand  and  all  into  his  breeches  pocket,  and 
go  out  again.  Then,  about  every  two  or  three  days,  I 
would  charge  him  up  with  a  pound  of  tobacco,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  month  he  always  paid  for  it  without  a  word. 

"  Well,  one  day  it  occurred  to  the  boys  that  they  would 
play  a  trick  on  the  old  man,  so  they  stood  the  keg  of  New 
Orleans  molasses  where  the  tobacco  keg  stood,  and  then 
we  all  sat  down  around  the  stove  to  wait  for  the  fun. 

"  Sure  enough,  about  the  usual  time,  in  came  the  old 
man,  hat  pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  never  noticing  any 
of  us.  He  went  over  to  the  keg,  pulled  the  cover  off,  dug 
his  hand  down  into  the  molasses,  never  said  a  word, 
stuffed  molasses  and  all  into  his  pocket,  just  as  if  it  had 
been  tobacco,  and  marched  out  again." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !"  cried  the  comtesse,  laughing  immoder 
ately.  "  How  very  amusing  !  How  clever  of  him  ! 
What  presence  of  mind  !  But  think  of  his  poor  clothes !" 

Mr.  Hollenden  chuckled  internally  and  rubbed  his 
hands  together.  Who  said  it  was  so  hard  to  get  on  with 
the  French  ?  He  felt  towards  the  comtesse  much  as  he 
did  towards  the  girls  he  used  to  know  when  he  was  a  boy. 
Rose  and  Maria  and  Shirley  unconsciously  made  him 
feel  the  difference  between  them  much  more  than  this 
noblewoman  who  was  a  descendant  of  royalty. 

"  Tell  me  more,  my  dear  Mr.  Hollenden.  I  never  was 
so  amused,"  said  the  comtesse,  maliciously.  She  could 
see  the  back  of  Rose's  head  and  two  little  scarlet  ears, 
and  she  knew  that  Rose  could  hear  her  father. 

"  Were  you  in  the  army  during  the  Civil  War  ?"  she 
said,  suddenly  realizing  that  she  must  treat  the  tall 
young  American,  with  her  clear  eyes  and  her  pure  brow, 
with  more  respect  than  she  had  accorded  to  Maria. 
"  Raoul  tells  me  that  your  family  is  very  military." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  crossing  his  legs  and  set' 

173 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ting  his  finger-tips  together.  "  I  never  handled  a  sword 
but  once,  and  that  was  when  the  boys  made  me  a  Knight 
Templar.  They  put  a  red-and-white  sash  across  me 
this  way,  and  a  belt  and  sword,  and  the  commander  told 
me  to  draw  my  sword.  Well,  I  tried  to  do  it,  but  I  was 
not  used  to  swords,  and  I  caught  the  point  of  it  in  my 
nose  and  slit  my  nostril  a  little.  You  can  see  the  scar 
yet.  That  decided  me,  when  the  war  broke  out,  to  let 
people  fight  who  knew  enough  to  draw  other  fellowV 
blood  and  not  their  own.  So  I  stayed  at  home  and  made 
money." 

The  comtesse  was  crimson  from  suppressed  laughter. 
Mr.  Hollenden  watched  her  efforts  in  delight.  It  always 
flatters  a  man  to  make  a  woman  laugh  against  her  will. 
But  when  Rose  suddenly  stood  up  and  flashed  a  look  of 
scorn  at  her,  giving  her  plainly  to  understand  that  she 
comprehended  the  ridicule  of  her  father,  the  comtesse 
recovered  herself  instantly. 

"  My  dear  mademoiselle,"  she  said,  "  has  the  new 
ambassador  arrived  yet?  We  never  have  paid  our  re 
spects  to  any  ambassador  to  France  except  the  Span 
ish,  but  since  knowing  your  charming  sister,  and  hav 
ing  heard  my  dear  brother's  enthusiastic  accounts  of 
you  and  your  father  and  brother,  maman  and  I  have 
decided  to  call  upon  them,  and  to  try  to  learn  more  about 
your  most  interesting  country,  of  which  we  poor  French 
are  so  shockingly  ignorant." 

Maria  could  hardly  believe  her  own  ears.  Even  Rose 
was  flattered  by  the  proposition,  for  Mrs.  Sharp  had 
already  spoken  to  her  about  the  impossibility  of  an  am 
bassador  from  America  enjoying  the  privileges  of  am 
bassadors  from  other  countries,  aside  from  their  official 
duties,  and  especially  of  the  impregnability  of  the  Fau 
bourg  St.  Germain. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  with  relief  that  Rose  saw  them 
depart.  Neither  daughter  cared  to  face  her  father  after 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

his  curiously  ill-timed  disclosures  to  the  comtesse.  Rose 
was  mortified  by  the  tale  of  the  sword,  and  Maria  was 
furious  because  of  his  anecdotes  about  the  lumber  camp. 
But  each  held  her  tongue  from  a  different  reason.  Ma 
ria  had  imbibed  the  European  idea  of  respect  to  parents, 
particularly  of  respect  to  her  father  and  to  the  male  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  which  forbade  her  to  storm  at  him  as 
she  stormed  at  her  friends.  Rose  was  silent  from  the 
feeling  that  the  disgrace  he  had  heaped  upon  her  head 
and  Shirley's  was  too  towering  to  be  mentioned.  The 
girl  had  countless  soldier  ancestors,  whose  very  shades 
must  have  blushed  to  hear  her  father's  shameless  anec 
dote.  She  never  before  had  faced  the  fact  that  he  had 
not  volunteered  in  the  Civil  War.  Her  grandfather's 
sword,  the  blood-stained  saddle  of  her  famous  uncle, 
who  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  his  spurs, 
his  faded  blue  coat,  with  the  bullet-hole  just  over  the 
heart,  a  scrap  of  the  flag  in  which  he  was  buried,  all 
these  and  many  more  sacred  relics  of  the  noble  services 
of  the  men  in  her  mother's  family  were  the  young  girl's 
most  valued  treasures.  And  then,  with  all  this  heroic 
blood  beating  in  her  veins,  to  hear  her  father  boast  of  nev 
er  having  drawn  a  sword  in  his  country's  defence  was, 
to  her  mind,  a  disgrace  equal  to  detecting  him  in  a  lie. 

Shirley  looked  at  her  set  face  as  she  left  the  room. 
He  knew  that  she  was  wounded  in  her  deepest  heart. 
Maria  followed  her  and  carefully  closed  the  door  be 
hind  her. 

"  Rose,  do  make  Peter  stay  out !"  she  snapped.  "  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  privately,  and  it  really  seems  to  me 
that  he  understands  too  much.  It  is  like  talking  before 
a  third  person." 

"  Oh  no,  Maria.  Please  let  Peter  come.  He  knows 
that  I  want  him.  He  can't  really  understand.  He  is 
only  a  dog.  Aren't  you,  Peter  ?" 

Peter  laid  his  head  in  Rose's  lap,  and  the  girl  bent  over 


him  in  a  tenderness  which  only  those  who  have  known 
the  friendship  of  a  dog  can  understand. 

"  Rose,  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  began  Maria. 
*  You  must  change  your  free  American  manner  if  you 
wish  me  to  receive  you  when  I  am  the  Marquise  d'Au- 
teuil.  It  was  atrocious  of  you  to  entice  Raoul  out  to  the 
little  salon  just  now.  I  saw  you  !  You  needn't  deny  it. 
And  your  cheeks  were  so  red  and  you  looked  so  conscious 
when  you  came  back.  You  just  did  it  to  torment  me 
and  make  me  think  he  had  been  making  love  to  you. 
You  are  such  a  conceited  thing  because  you  think  you 
are  handsome.  Don't  you  know  that  Raoul  has  loved 
me  since  the  first  day  he  saw  me  at  Vrianault  ?  He 
told  me  so.  He  said  no  man  with  a  heart  in  his  breast 
could  resist  me.  He  calls  me  his  little  brown  mouse. 
Men  are  so  foolish  when  they  are  in  love.  But  I  won't 
have  you  interfering.  You  are  so  big  and  stupid. 
Why  can't  you  be  lithe  and  airy  like  me  ?  1  have  the  air 
of  a  Parisienne.  Raoul  says  so.  But  you  look  like 
nothing  in  the  world  except  an  American.  You  are 
only  a  big  baby.  How  dared  you  give  that  silver- 
mounted  flask  to  my  butler  yesterday  ?" 

"  Why,  I  broke  it,  and  was  going  to  throw  it  away, 
but  he  admired  it  so  pointedly  that  I  thought  he  want 
ed  it." 

"  How  stupid  you  are !  Of  course  he  wanted  it.  French 
servants  want  everything  one  has.  And  he  knew  that  he 
could  get  it  from  you.  He  never  would  have  dared  to 
hint  at  such  a  thing  with  me.  Don't  you  recognize  how 
improper  it  was  to  give  a  flask  to  a  servant  ?  A  flask 
belongs  to  a  gentleman's  appointments.  It  is  out  of 
place  with  a  servant.  He  understood  that.  He  doubt 
less  accepted  the  equality  with  you  which  that  present 
gave  him,  and  in  all  probability  is  boasting  now  that 
you  are  in  love  with  him." 

Pose  started  to  her  feet  and  Peter  growled. 

176 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,  Maria  !  Please  don't  say  such  things  to  me.  I 
can't  bear  an  insult,  even  if  you  are  my  sister." 

"  I  am  not  your  sister  !"  cried  Maria,  in  a  fresh  fury  at 
Rose's  remonstrance.  "  Thank  Heaven  I  am  only  your 
half-sister.  You  gave  Clemence  a  ring.  Just  imagine 
giving  a  maid  a  gold  ring  !  How  she  must  have  laughed 
at  your  ignorance,  your  American  bad  taste,  behind 
your  back  !  Oh,  how  American  you  are  !  How  nouveau 
riche  !  How  parvenu  I" 

"  Maria  !"  cried  Rose.  "  How  cruel  of  you  !  Can't 
you  correct  my  faults  more  politely  ?  There  is  no  use  in 
lacerating  me  like  that.  I  see  the  force  of  your  argu 
ment  and  1  never  will  make  this  mistake  again.  But  if  1 
make  others,  as  I  surely  shall,  please  tell  me  of  them 
more  kindly.  No  one  ever  spoke  to  me  in  all  my  life 
as  you  do  constantly." 

"  I  shall  speak  to  you  as  I  please  !"  cried  Maria.  "  My 
father  has  given  your  education  into  my  hands,  and 
especially  as  I  am  to  be  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil,  you 
shall  listen  to  me  1" 

"  Oh,  Maria,  don't  marry  the  marquis  !  If  you  only 
knew  about  him  what  1  do.  He  is  not  worthy  of  you, 
and  he  does  not  love  you.  He  is  only  marrying  you  for 
your  money.  1  know,  because  1  have  heard  with  my 
own  ears.  I  am  not  repeating  gossip.  Please  be  warn 
ed  in  time." 

Rose  stood  up  and  involuntarily  laid  her  hand  on 
Peter's  collar  as  she  saw  her  sister's  face.  It  was  so  con 
torted  with  rage  as  to  be  almost  inhuman.  Tiny  flecks 
of  foam  gathered  on  her  blue  lips.  Her  little  pig  eyes 
snapped  green  sparks.  She  curved  her  thin  brown  fin 
gers  like  claws,  and  crouched  as  if  for  a  spring.  Then 
she  screamed.  It  was  a  scream  so  sudden  and  so  shrill 
that  it  brought  her  father  and  Shirley  to  the  door  in 
an  instant. 

"  Take  her  away !  Take  her  out  of  my  sight,  or  I  shall 
M  .177 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

kill  her  !"  shrieked  Maria.     "  I  hate  her !    She  is  trying 
to  ruin  my  happiness.     Ah-h  !     1  want  to  kill  her  \" 

"  For  God's  sake,  Rose,  what  have  you  done  to  her  ?" 
asked  Shirley. 

"  Nothing.  She  has  done  nothing,"  said  her  father. 
"  1  have  seen  Maria  in  such  rages  with  her  mother  too 
many  times  not  to  know  that  Rose  is  not  to  blame.  Stop 
that  screaming  instantly,  Maria." 

Maria  straightened  up  in  her  chair  and  obeyed.  Her 
fingers  still  worked  convulsively  and  the  glitter  of  her 
long  teeth  through  her  drawn  lips  made  her  look  like 
an  animal. 

"  Now  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is,  Rose." 

"  Why,  father,  I  was  just  pleading  with  her  not  to 
marry  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil.  I — I  think  she  would  not 
be  happy  with  him." 

"  Has  he  asked  her,  too  ?"  said  Shirley.  "  He  proposed 
to  Rose  in  London." 

"  It's  a  lie !"  cried  Maria,  beginning  to  scream  again. 
But  as  her  father  took  one  step  towards  her,  she  cowered 
down  in  her  chair  and  became  quiet. 

"  Don't  you  dare  use  that  word  to  me  !"  thundered 
Shirley. 

"Oh,  don't  mind  that,  Shirley,"  said  his  father. 
"  When  you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  you  won't  fight  at  be 
ing  called  a  liar." 

"  It's  all  very  well,  sir,  when  she  didn't  call  you  one. 
But  if  anybody  had — " 

"  Well,  well,  people  have,  many  a  time,  and  I  am  here 
to  tell  the  tale.  It  didn't  hurt  me  any." 

"  Oh  no,  father,"  said  Rose,  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  they  have,  and  I  never  killed  them  nor  ate  them 
raw  nor  got  myself  into  the  papers.  I  bided  my  time 
and  avenged  myself  in  my  own  way.  It  was  slower 
but  safer." 

Shirley  drew  a  step  nearer  to  Rose  at  this  admission. 

178 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  He  never  proposed  to  Rose  in  London,"  interrupted 
Maria,  "  because  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  proposed  for 
my  hand  before  you  even  sailed  from  New  York.  On 
that  voyage  he  was  engaged  to  me.  So  you  see  that 
she  has  lied." 

"  So  that  was  the  way  of  it/'  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  ignor 
ing  Rose's  indignant  protest.  "  Well,  I  think  I  see  a  way 
to  settle  that  young  man.  His  is  not  the  only  title  in 
Europe,  Maria.  You  must  give  him  up." 

"  I  will  not !"  cried  the  woman,  staggering  to  her  feet 
and  clutching  at  her  collar  as  if  it  choked  her.  "  I  will 
never  give  him  up  !  You  are  too  late.  I  love  him  !" 

Her  father  looked  at  her  unpityingly. 

"  You  must  give  him  up.  You  shall  yet  marry  a 
title,  if  you  like.  I'll  buy  you  any  sort  of  a  husband  you 
wish  except  this  one.  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil  runs  the 
game  a  little  too  wide  open  to  suit  even  me." 

"  Don't  say  that,  father!"  cried  Maria,  throwing  her 
self  upon  her  knees  at  her  father's  feet,  much  to  his  dis 
gust.  "  He  loves  me  !  He  loves  me  !" 

"  I  have  said  it.  I  mean  it,  and  I  shall  stick  to  it.  If 
you  persist  after  this,  I  will  tell  him  that  not  one  cent 
of  my  money  goes  with  your  hand.  We  shall  see  then 
how  much  he  loves  you." 

With  a  groan  Maria  sank  into  a  little  heap  on  the  floor, 
her  face  twitching  painfully.  Without  another  glance 
at  her  Mr.  Hollenden  turned  and  left  the  room. 

It  was  easy  to  see  how  he  had  made  his  money. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  next  day  was  the  one  set  apart  for  the  inspection 
of  the  Hollendens'  proposed  hotel,  with  the  Baronne 
Valencia  and  Townshend. 

Rose  was  abroad  early.  She  took  Peter  the  Great 
and  her  maid  and  went  to  the  Madeleine  flower-market. 
There  is  nothing  sweeter  anywhere  in  the  world  than 
Paris  in  the  early  morning  at  the  flower-market.  And 
Rose  herself  in  her  linen  gown  and  big  rose-colored 
hat,  with  her  hands  full  of  pink  and  purple  sweet  pease, 
was  no  small  part  of  this  early  morning  loveliness. 

Shirley  was  the  only  one  up  when  she  returned.  He 
was  buried  in  the  pages  of  the  New  York  Herald. 

"  How  sweet  and  clean  you  look,  Shirley,"  she  said, 
standing  beside  him  and  looking  down  at  him  rather 
shyly.  She  admired  her  brother  enthusiastically,  but 
was  awkward,  from  timidity,  in  expressing  herself. 

"  Most  men  look  clean  in  white  flannel,"  said  Shirley. 

"  Some  don't.  But  if  I  were  permitted  but  one  word  to 
describe  you,  I  think  that  word  would  be  '  clean. '  ' 

Shirley  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  paper,  but  he 
kicked  at  her  skirts  for  an  answer. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Marion  Gregory,  Shirley," 
said  Rose.  "  She  is  coming  over  for  the  summer,  and 
wants  Lida  to  travel  with  her  in  Germany  and  Austria.'' 

"  Lida  will  like  that.  She  is  such  an  indefatigable 
little  woman.  And  the  cleverest  girl  I  know  !  By 
Jove  !  Look  at  the  way  she  earns  her  living  after  such 
luxury  as  she  used  to  have  !" 

1 80 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Shirley  got  up,  dug  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and 
began  to  pace  the  floor.  Rose  laughed  mischievously. 

"  Oscar  coming  with  Marion  ?"  he  said. 

"  No." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Rose  said,  nervously  : 

"  Where  are  you  going  this  evening,  Shirley  ?" 

"  To  take  Lida  and  the  baronne  to  the  opera.  Do  you 
want  to  go  ?" 

"  No,  we  are  going  with  the  Sharps  and  Sir  Arthur. 
And  where  are  you  going  to-day  ?" 

"  To  look  at  the  house  this  morning  with  all  of  you, 
and  to  Tattersall's  this  afternoon  with  the  Marquis 
d'Auteuil.  But  what  in  the  world  do  you  want  to  know 
for  ?  You  have  developed  the  most  awful  amount  of 
curiosity  concerning  my  movements  in  the  last  week 
that  I  ever  encountered.  Do  you  want  me  to  wear  a 
pedometer  ?  Are  you  writing  a  book  on  Paris  with  me 
for  the  hero  ?" 

"  No,  no  1  It  isn't  curiosity.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  1 
Oh,  Shirley,  I  wish  I  had  a  mother  !" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  want  to  tell  me  that  you  can't  ? 
Surely  you  aren't  afraid  to  tell  me  anything.  Come, 
what  is  it  ?  Are  you  in  a  mess  ?" 

"  It's  something  I  must  tell  you,"  said  the  girl,  des 
perately.  "  Yet  I  can't  bear  to.  But  I've  tried  every 
other  way,  and  I  must,"  she  ended,  incoherently. 

Shirley  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked 
her  in  the  face.  He  never  had  seen  his  clear-eyed  sister 
so  confused. 

"  Let  her  go  !"  he  said. 

"  Wait.  I'll  write  it,"  said  Rose,  rushing  out  of  the 
room.  Presently  she  came  to  the  door,  tossed  a  crumpled 
note  to  him,  and  fled. 

In  her  room  she  heard  the  butler  come  to  lay  the  table 
for  the  American  breakfast  that  her  father  would  have, 
and  which  he  ate  in  solitary  state.  Then  a  knock  on 

181 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

her  door,  and  something  white  pushed  under  it.  She 
picked  it  up  eagerly  and  read  : 

"  You  are  the  best  thing  that  ever  happened." 

It  smelled  of  Shirley's  cigarette,  and  the  banging  of 
the  outer  door  announced  his  departure. 

"  M.  Shirley  left  word  that  you  would  find  him  at  the 
Baronne  Valencia's  when  you  called  for  her,  made 
moiselle,"  announced  Marie  when  Rose  came  out. 

"  What  a  dear  he  is  !"  she  said  to  herself.  A  hurdy- 
gurdy  under  the  window  was  playing  the  Intermezzo 
from  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana."  Rose  leaned  out  and 
dropped  a  franc  on  the  pavement.  The  man  looked  so 
astonished  at  the  noble  sound  the  coin  made  to  an  ear 
accustomed  to  the  sound  of  sous,  that  Rose  laughed  and 
dropped  another.  "  It's  worth  it,"  she  said,  aloud.  "  I 
feel  that  I  ought  to  celebrate  my  first  victory  over  Paris  ! 
Oh,  you  beautiful,  clean,  wicked  city  !  You  wanted  to 
eat  up  my  brother  !"  She  shook  her  fist  in  the  direction 
of  the  fountains  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde. 

"  Who  are  you  shaking  your  fist  at,  Rose  ?"  said  her 
father,  back  of  her. 

The  girl  started. 

"  At  Paris  !     All  Paris  !" 

"  Don't  you  like  it  ?" 

"  I  love  it,  and  yet — the  people — " 

"  Oh,  you  will  get  used  to  them.  Cultivate  Maria's 
friends." 

"  Maria's  friends  do  not  seem  very  anxious  to  cultivate 
us !"  laughed  Rose.  "  I  haven't  been  exactly  over 
whelmed  with  visitors  as  yet." 

"  They  will  come  when  we  are  in  our  own  hotel.  By- 
the-way,  I  expect  to  try  the  new  landau  to-day.  Your 
dog-cart  will  be  here,  too.  Ah,  here  they  are  !  Come, 
let's  go  down." 

"  Oh,  father,  what  a  beauty  that  landau  is  !  I  think 
a  landau,  as  a  rule,  is  such  an  ugly  carriage.  But  this 

182 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

one  is  swung  so  high,  it  is  more  like  a  chariot.  The 
steps  should  let  down." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  would  like  a  powdered  footman 
and  coachman,  like  Lord  Lucknow's,"  said  her  father, 
dryly. 

"  I  would  !"  declared  Rose. 

"  A  nice  sort  of  republican  you  are  !  Has  England 
bitten  you  already  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  did  go  in  very  much  for  Jef- 
fersonian  simplicity.  I  always  have  loved  uniforms 
and  robes  and  powdered  wigs  and  knee-breeches  and  silk 
stockings.  The  very  ugliest  costume  that  the  mind  of 
man  could  invent  is  a  man's  dress  of  to-day.  It  is  so 
exquisitely  hideous  that  it  is  almost  tragic." 

"  A  pretty  figure  I  should  cut  in  high-heeled  satin 
slippers  and  a  sword,"  said  her  father. 

Rose  colored  and  turned  away. 

"  There  are  others  whom  a  sword  would  become  bet 
ter,"  she  said. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  your  chestnut,"  said  her  fa 
ther,  quite  unconscious  of  her  sarcasm.  "  He  has  a 
wicked  look  in  his  eye." 

"  Ah,  but  he  is  so  handsome  !"  cried  Rose,  kindling 
with  enthusiasm.  "  See  his  nose  and  the  set  of  his  ears. 
Look  at  those  slim  legs  and  the  lines  of  his  back  and 
flanks.  He  is  a  perfect  beauty." 

"  I  don't  like  him.  He  is  too  nervous.  Are  you  sure 
you  can  manage  him,  and  do  you  trust  Alphonse  ?" 

"  I  trust  myself.     Alphonse  is  only  a  figure-head." 

"  Well,  if  anything  happens,  will  you  turn  the  reins 
over  to  Alphonse,  and  trust  yourself  to  him  ?" 

"  I  will  not.  I  will  drive  myself,  and  Alphonse  can 
only  go  as  a  groom." 

"  They  tell  me  that  Alphonse  is  experienced  with 
horses  and  thoroughly  trustworthy,  so  I  dare  say  you 
can  manage  ;  but  be  careful  of  the  bad  driving  of  other 

'83 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

people.  Up  you  go.  You  look  very  well,  and  he  is  a 
beauty.  Tell  Alphonse  to  look  out  for  you.  Keep 
ahead,  where  I  can  watch  you.  Now,  then,  you're  off !" 

The  chestnut  pranced  a  little  at  starting,  and  seemed 
nervous  at  the  leaps  of  Peter  the  Great. 

"  Peter,  behave  yourself  !  Follow  us,  or  Til  leave 
you  at  home  !" 

Peter  obeyed.     Alphonse  shook  his  head. 

"  The  Americans  train  their  animals  better  than  we 
French,  "he  said. 

Rose  smiled,  quite  unconscious  of  the  stares  of  the 
Frenchmen,  who  had  never  seen  anything  like  this  hand 
some  young  American  girl,  with  her  perfectly  appointed 
dog-cart  and  her  beautiful  horse.  Her  big  dog  trotting 
behind  completed  a  picture  which  seemed  to  give  pedes 
trians  in  the  rue  de  Rivoli  infinite  satisfaction. 

Mr.  Hollenden  gathered  his  party  together,  consist 
ing  of  Maria,  Shirley,  and  the  Baronne  Valencia,  and 
the  magnificent  hotel  was  critically  examined.  Maria, 
in  spite  of  a  certain  horror  at  the  discovery,  could  not 
repress  a  thrill  of  pride  that  the  furnishings  of  Vrianault 
were  about  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  Americans,  for 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  Mr.  Hollenden  considered  this 
almost  regal  splendor  a  good  investment. 

As  for  Rose,  she  was  not  so  enthusiastic.  She  had 
been  somewhat  chilled  by  her  reception  in  Paris,  and 
she  could  not  help  wondering  if  this  empty  grandeur 
would  not  mock  her  lack  of  friends.  Her  sister's  un 
conscious  admissions  of  what  this  marriage  would  bring 
to  her  in  the  way  of  recognition  from  the  fashionable 
faubourgs,  had  already  given  Rose  a  shrewd  idea  of 
the  anomalous  and  painful  position  Maria  now  occu 
pied.  No  girl  who  has  not  been  neglected  at  a  dance 
can  realize  the  awful  inward  sensations  of  a  wallflower. 
No  woman  who  has  not  fought  her  way  into  society  can 
sympathize  with  the  terror  with  which  another  aspirant 

184 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

views  her  own  preparations  for  the  feast  which  she  knows 
may  never  be  spread,  or  the  guest  chambers  which  may 
never  be  occupied.  Rose  had  been  a  Western  girl  at  an 
Eastern  school.  Therefore  she  was  strangely  silent  as 
she  heard  her  father's  confident  plans.  He  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  Maria,  and  seeing  that  she  was  more  than  satis 
fied,  he  acquiesced  to  the  enormous  bonus  asked — nearly 
double  the  sum  first  mentioned  by  the  baronne,  owing 
to  the  discovery  of  the  owners  that  their  new  tenants 
were  the  rich  Americans  whom  all  Paris  was  expecting. 

"  1  am  sorry  that  they  have  been  so  dishonorable," 
said  the  baronne.  "  They  actually  agreed  with  me — 
verbally,  of  course — upon  the  amount  1  first  mentioned, 
but  when  they  found  out  that  you  were  the  rich,  the 
great  M.  Hollenden  !  Pouf !  The  price  doubled  !" 

Mr.  Hollenden  was  flattered,  in  spite  of  the  annoy 
ance  he  felt  at  being  had  upon  the  hip,  as  it  were,  but  he 
chose  not  to  betray  it. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  the  man  who  asked  for  his  bill  at  a 
Florida  hotel.  He  looked  at  it,  handed  it  back,  and  said, 
'  Guess  again.  I've  got  more  than  that  !'  ' 

"  But  shall  you  take  it  ?  Think  well  before  you  com 
mit  yourself,  for  while  the  French  will  not  hesitate  to 
impose  upon  you,  they  will  take  precious  good  care  that 
they  leave  you  no  opportunity  to  impose  upon  them  !" 

"  Yes,  Maria  recognizes  these  things  as  authentic. 
She  likes  it,  and  I  shall  take  it.  But  perhaps  you'd 
better  close  the  bargain  before  they  raise  the  price  again !" 

"  Maria  knows  everybody,  I  suppose,  as  she  is  such  a 
friend  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy." 

"  Well,  from  her  letters  I  should  suppose  that  she 
knew  nearly  everybody.  I  am  at  least  familiar  with 
their  names  and  private  history,  but  we  have  met  none 
of  them  as  yet." 

"  I  dare  say  she  knows  as  many  as  I  do.  I  hope  she  is 
taking  Rose  to  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt's  on  Sunday- 

185 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

It  is  the  first  time  she  has  received  since  her  horrible  acci 
dent  in  the  fire  of  the  Bazar  de  la  Charit£." 

"  Maria,  are  you  going  to  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt's 
on  Sunday  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  1  do  not  know  the  duchesse,"  answered  Maria, 
crimsoning. 

"  Not  know  her  !  Why,  your  letters  have  been  filled 
with  the  doings  of  the  Briancourt  family  !" 

"  They  are  great  friends  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy," 
said  Maria,  huskily.  "  I  have  seen  them  many  times 
at  her  house,  but  I  was  never  introduced.  You  know 
it  is  not  so  much  the  custom  to  introduce  in  Europe  as 
it  is  in  America." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  the  baronne,  hastening  to  her 
rescue.  "  Very  well,  then,  I  shall  ask  permission  to  take 
you  all  on  Sunday.  It  will  be  the  very  best  house  in  all 
Paris  to  be  seen  first." 

"  Don't  include  me,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden.  "  There  are 
two  members  of  our  family  who  do  not  speak  French 
— Peter  the  Great  and  myself.  I  will  stay  at  home  with 
the  dog.  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  Very  well,"  laughed  the  baronne.  "  Then  1  will  take 
Shirley  and  the  girls.  Sterling  will  surely  show  there 
during  the  afternoon.  He  ought  to  be  here  now.  He 
and  the  young  Due  de  Briancourt  are  great  friends." 

"  It  is  twelve  o'clock,"  announced  Rose,  interrupting 
them,  "  and  at  one  Mr.  Townshend  has  promised  me  a 
surprise." 

"  Come,  then,"  said  the  baronne.  "  1  confess  to  a  weak 
ness  for  Sterling's  secrets  and  surprises,  especially  as  1 
know  what  this  one  is.  Rose,  1  am  coming  with  you  in 
the  dog-cart.  1  want  to  watch  the  action  of  the  chestnut. " 

Townshend,  on  his  beautiful  sorrel  mare,  Minnehaha, 
accompanied  by  his  groom,  was  waiting  for  them  at  the 
door. 

"  I  didn't  come  in,"  he  said,  bowing  to  them  all,  but 

1 86 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

fixing  his  eyes  upon  Rose,  whose  beauty  struck  him 
afresh  each  time  he  saw  her,  "  because  I  heard  that  you 
were  just  coming  out.  You  haven't  forgotten,  Miss 
Rose,  have  you,  that  the  baronne  has  arranged  a  sur 
prise  for  the  Bohemian  side  of  you  at  one  o'clock?" 

"  The  baronne  does  not  know  that  1  have  a  Bohemian 
side  to  my  nature.  It  was  you  who  planned  it,  what 
ever  it  is." 

Townshend  laughed. 

"  Perhaps.  But  1  suggested  it  for  to-day,  because 
house-hunting  is  very  exhausting,  and  under  ordinary 
circumstances  you  would  not  care  for  so  heavy  a  meal. 
But  as  you  breakfasted  at  seven  this  morning,  you  ought 
to  be  able  to  eat  a  prodigious  luncheon." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  I  had  my  coffee  so  early  ?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"  I  saw  you  at  the  flower-market,"  answered  Town 
shend,  coloring  under  the  baronne's  astonished  gaze. 

Rose  hesitated  to  ask  why  he  had  not  spoken  to  her, 
so  she  only  said  : 

"  I  never  was  so  desperately  hungry  in  all  my  life." 

*  Come,  then,"  said  Townshend,  riding  ahead. 

After  a  short  drive  they  found  themselves  following 
Townshend  along  the  Quai  de  la  Tournelle,  before  a 
certain  number  of  which  he  dismounted  and  tossed  the 
reins  to  his  groom. 

The  door  stood  open,  and  over  it  appeared  the  words  : 
"  Tour  d' Argent.  Maison  Frederic." 

Within  were  simple  wooden  tables,  plain  chairs,  and 
a  spotless  floor.  Rose's  eyes  danced  as  Mr.  Town 
shend  pushed  two  tables  together,  assisted  by  half  a 
dozen  chattering  waiters,  and  seated  his  little  par 
ty  near  a  window  filled  with  ferns,  overlooking  the 
river. 

Then  Fre'de'ric  entered — a  Fr6d6ric  or  an  Ibsen.  We 
are  more  familiar  with  Ibsen  in  America  than  with  this 

187 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

marvel,  this  wonder  of  a  French  chef,  more's  the  pity  for 
our  digestion's  sake. 

Frederic  did  not  scrape  and  bow  after  the  manner  of 
most  proprietors  of  small  restaurants.  Not  he !  He 
knew  what  he  could  do.  Therefore  he  entered  with 
dignity  and  a  certain  mild  loftiness  which  went  well  with 
his  face  and  the  secret  knowledge  of  his  attainments. 
The  real  Ibsen  could  not  deport  himself  with  more  the  air 
of  a  master  of  his  craft  than  this  conqueror  of  cuisine. 

Frederic  folded  his  arms  over  his  white  apron,  and 
watched  his  waiters  place  bowls  of  gray  and  of  red 
crevettes  upon  the  table. 

Rose  hesitated  a  moment  before  she  tried  them,  but 
Townshend  showed  her  exactly  the  knack  of  breaking 
them  in  the  back  and  of  drawing  the  tiny,  salty,  delicious 
morsels  from  the  shell. 

"  There  is  but  one  trouble  with  these,"  said  the  baronne, 
"  and  that  is  the  same  trouble  that  I  always  have  with 
peanuts  in  America.  I  never  have  had  enough,  and  I 
never  expect  to  have  enough.  I  have  always  solemnly 
believed  that  I  could  eat  a  solid  bushel.  And  of  these — 
well,  my  arms  grow  tired  of  breaking  them  !  That  is  the 
only  surfeit  I  ever  suffer  from  !" 

"  Like  the  whitebait  in  England,"  said  Shirley.  "  Rose 
acquired  the  whitebait  habit  in  London,  and  I  really 
thought  we  should  be  obliged  to  make  her  sign  the 
pledge  to  keep  her  temperate  on  them." 

"  I  could  hardly  be  decent  about  it,"  declared  Rose. 
"  After  eating  all  of  my  own,  I  looked  with  envy  at  any 
stray  ones  on  my  neighbor's  plates,  and  a  waiter  who 
dared  let  so  much  as  one  cling  to  the  dish  to  be  taken 
back  to  the  kitchen  was  a  deadly  enemy.  You  may 
talk  about  our  broiled  lobster  and  terrapin  and  canvas- 
back  !  But  give  me  English  whitebait !" 

"  By  the  bushel  !"  said  the  baronne.  "  I  always 
wanted  to  go  to  a  clam-bake,  or  some  sort  of  an  open-air 

1 88 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

fish  dinner,  where  I  would  have  the  time  and  capacity 
to  consume  all  the  crevettes  I  want  !" 

The  solemn  aspect  of  Frederic  appealed  to  Rose.  She 
saw  that  some  culinary  sacrament  was  about  to  be  ad 
ministered.  A  side-table  was  pushed  up  so  close  to 
theirs  that  it  touched.  They  were  sitting  with  three  on 
each  side,  which  purposely  left  the  end  of  the  table  free. 
Upon  this  side-table  was  placed  a  shining  machine  con 
sisting  of  an  alcohol  broiler  and  a  device  for  crushing 
juice  from  a  fowl's  carcass.  Then  an  under-done  duck 
was  brought  in,  with  the  red  juices  bubbling  from  its 
sides. 

Frederic  took  this  bird,  thrust  a  fork  into  its  breast, 
turned  back  his  cuffs,  and  bowed. 

Townshend  watched  the  sparkling  face  of  the  Ameri 
can  girl.  He  knew  that  she  had  seen  all  that  America 
had  to  offer  in  the  way  of  splendid  dinners,  for  Mr.  Hol- 
lenden's  were  noted  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  He 
justly  prided  himself  upon  his  knowledge  of  cuisine,  yet 
Townshend  knew  that  nowhere  in  America — nowhere 
on  all  the  earth  over  which  he  had  travelled — would 
Rose  see  such  a  sight  as  Fre'de'ric  carving  a  duck  in  the 
Tour  d'Argent. 

With  a  knife  as  thin  and  sharp  as  a  razor  he  severed 
the  legs  and  wings,  not  missing  the  joints  by  a  hair's 
breadth.  Rose  looked  mischievously  at  her  father. 
Even  he,  expert  that  he  was,  had  to  hunt  for  the  joint 
occasionally.  He  was  watching  Frederic's  wizard-like 
movements  with  deep  envy.  He  saw  him  cut  down 
sharply  on  each  side  of  the  breast-bone,  and  then  carve 
the  breast  into  thin,  even  slices,  each  having  exactly 
the  same  narrow  brown  rim  of  skin.  Each  slice  Fre'd 
e'ric  tossed  onto  the  silver  platter  which  formed  the  broil 
er.  Then  thrusting  the  knife  close  by  the  prongs  of 
the  fork,  he  cut  the  carcass  into  two  parts,  pressed  it 
into  his  shining  machine,  screwed  down  the  top,  and 

189 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

gazed  into  space.  The  eager  eyes  of  the  Americans 
were  fastened  upon  the  thin  stream  of  red  juice  which 
trickled  from  the  spout  into  the  platter  of  sliced  duck. 
Fr6deric  performed  this  rite  of  extracting  the  juice  until 
there  was  none  left.  Then  he  dashed  salt,  and  white 
pepper  over  the  duck  with  a  recklessness  which  is  all 
but  alarming  to  those  who  do  not  know  that  the  knowl 
edge  of  exact  cookery  comes  from  within. 

Two  eager  waiters  stood  by  assisting  him  with  all  a 
Frenchman's  deftness.  One  poured  some  mysterious 
sauce  into  the  back  of  the  machine  as  Frederic  crushed 
the  duck's  carcass  for  the  last  time,  and  this  sauce  ran 
into  the  platter  in  a  thick,  sluggish  stream.  Once,  a 
waiter,  hurrying  by,  jogged  the  great  chef's  elbow. 
Fre'de'ric  turned  and  looked  at  him,  but  the  man  did  not 
see.  Again,  in  his  hurry,  he  touched  this  sacred  elbow. 
Frederic  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  folded  his  arms 
and  looked  at  him.  The  other  two  waiters  sprang  for 
the  delinquent  and  hurried  him  from  the  room.  Fr6d6ric 
watched  the  open  door  through  which  they  had  van 
ished,  in  silent  majesty,  for  fully  a  minute  before  he 
could  bring  himself  to  return  to  his  task.  He  lighted 
the  trim  alcohol  lamps — the  first  with  a  match,  the  sec 
ond  with  an  alcohol-smeared  finger,  lighted  from  the 
blaze  of  the  other,  and  then  the  platter  was  adjusted  and 
the  duck  began  to  cook.  They  watched  it  turn  from 
dark  red  to  brown,  basted  constantly  by  the  wizard 
Frederic,  who  was  not  even  nattered  by  their  respectful 
attention.  Another  duck  was  undergoing  the  same 
process  at  Fre'de'ric's  hand  between  bastings,  so  that 
the  entire  party  were  served  with  an  evenness  in  rota 
tion  and  such  a  nicety  and  precision  that  it  was  as  sat 
isfactory  as  a  well-mounted  play. 

Rose  gave  a  little  scream  of  delight  when  she  tasted 
it,  and  gave  herself  a  small  hug  of  supreme  satisfaction. 
Fre'de'ric  smiled  and  rubbed  his  hands. 

190 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  The  beautiful  young  girl  understands/'  he  said  to 
Townshend. 

"  That  is  what  the  ship's  stoker  said  of  you/'  he  said. 
"  You  can  pay  no  higher  compliment  to  any  man  than 
to  '  understand '  him." 

"  I  eat  Frederic's  duck  with  only  inarticulate  moans 
of  unutterable  happiness,"  sighed  the  baronne.  "  I 
come  so  seldom." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  oftener  ?"  cried  Rose.  "  I 
shall  come  at  least  once  a  week." 

"  You  will  do  as  I  do,"  said  the  baronne.  "  You  will 
only  come  when  you  have  strangers  to  show  about. 
Besides,  when  we  have  done  here,  you  will  feel  as  if  you 
never  could  look  a  duck  in  the  face  again,  for  Fre'deric 
makes  you  eat  the  legs  and  wings  with  your  salad.  He 
doesn't  use  force,  but  he  puts  it  before  you,  and  if  you 
are  as  weak  as  1,  you  succumb  to  temptation  and  eat 
it.  Fr&le'ric  isn't  exactly  wicked,  but  he  is  seductive." 

Townshend  respectfully  begged  the  honor  of  a  word 
with  Fre'de'ric. 

"  Are  we  to  have  pease  with  this  ?"  he  said. 

Fre'deric  flung  up  his  hands,  pursed  his  lips  together, 
and  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  no,"  he  said.  "  The  pease  were  finished  yester 
day.  I  shall  serve  no  more  pease  this  season.  You  are 
to  have  lentils.  For  the  next  course  you  are  to  have  the 
cuisses  with  a  salade  of  cress  and  chicorte.  After  that, 
if  you  wish,  you  may  have  fruit  &  la  Tour  d' Argent. 
But  no  more." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Townshend,  meekly. 

"  What  is  fruit  a  la  Tour  d' Argent  ?"  whispered  the 
baronne.  *  I  never  like  to  show  my  ignorance  before 
such  a  mind  as  Fre'de'ric's." 

"  It  is  made  of  plums,  cherries,  apricots,  pears,  and 
white  grapes,  covered  with  eau  de  vie  and  kirschwasser, 
and  served  with  bowls  of  ice  surrounding  each  dish." 

191 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Dear  me,"  moaned  the  baronne,  "  I  am  too  young 
to  die  !  Hasn't  that  a  heavenly  sound,  Rose,  you 
healthy  young  animal?" 

"  I  don  t  know  kirschwasser,"  said  Rose.  "  But  it 
sounds — well,  I  don't  care  what  it  tastes  like.  I'll  eat 
it  for  the  sound  of  its  name." 

Shirley  and  Maria  sat  side  by  side,  together  with  their 
father.  Such  a  contrast  as  they  made  !  The  baronne 
wondered  why  Maria  gave  herself  such  airs.  Such  a 
hideous  little  beast  as  she  was,  and  Shirley  such  a  dear  ! 
It  couldn't  be  possible  that  even  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil 
would  think  of  actually  marrying  her.  Oh  no  !  No 
man  in  his  senses  could  do  that  !  And  the  marquis 
was  noted  for  his  fastidiousness.  She  quite  approved 
of  her  cousin's  admiration  for  Rose.  It  was  so  seldom, 
she  reflected,  that  one's  relations  ever  did  the  proper 
thing  matrimonially,  that  it  seemed  almost  too  good 
to  be  true  that  Rose  should  care  for  him.  The  baronne 
feared  that  Sir  Arthur's  title  might  prove  too  strong  an 
attraction. 

As  they  came  out,  she  watched  the  young  girl  to  see 
if  she  had  noticed  Townshend's  feeling,  but  the  baronne 
could  discover  nothing.  She  only  saw  that  Townshend 
put  Rose  into  the  dog-cart  with  unusual  care,  examined 
the  harness  critically,  g^ave  her  groom  a  sharp  look, 
and  that  she  colored  when  he  spurred  his  mare  and 
rode  at  her  side. 

"  How  well  you  ride  !"  said  Rose,  turning  her  flower- 
like  face  towards  him. 

"  Praise  from  Sir  Hubert,"  said  Townshend.  "As  you 
are  the  most  critical  young  person  I  ever  have  known 
in  matters  dealing  with  horseflesh,  I  admit  to  being 
horribly  flattered." 

"  You  ought  to  be  in  the  army.  How  fine  you  \vould 
look  leading  a  cavalry  charge !" 

"  Do  you  think  I  wouldn't  be  f lightened  and  turn 

192 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

back  ?  You  remember  the  man  who  claimed  to  have 
been  where  the  bullets  were  thickest  was  really  riding  on 
the  ammunition- wagon." 

"  You  seem  always  to  think  I  have  a  poor  opinion  of 
you.  Why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Because  I  never  have  been  able  to  do  things  such  as 
please  your  fancy." 

"  It  is  not  my  fancy.     It  is  the  real  me." 

Rose  touched  the  chestnut  with  her  whip  and  he  kicked 
viciously.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  beat  him  into  in 
stant  submission.  Then  she  changed  her  mind  and 
spoke  to  him.  He  seemed  to  quiet  down,  and  Rose 
looked  at  Townshend. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  not  to  ?"  she  said.  "  You 
thought  it  would  be  wrong  to  whip  him." 

"  Because  I  trust  your  good  judgment." 

"  I  like  that,"  said  Rose,  frankly.  "  Most  men  would 
have  shrieked  '  Don't !'  at  me,  or  would  have  grabbed 
the  reins." 

"  But  I  like  that  horse.  I  am  glad  vou  have  bought 
him." 

"  I  agree  with  you.     Father  doesn't." 

"  He  has  been  badly  driven,  I  should  say.  But  if  you 
are  patient  with  him  and  he  does  not  kill  you,  you  will 
have  a  fine  horse.  You  have  quite  a  task  before  you, 
however.  The  main  thing  is  to  keep  your  head  and  not 
to  get  nervous  when  he  bolts." 

"  I  like  to  think  that  I  have  a  task  of  that  sort,"  cried 
Rose.  "  I  hate  easy  things.  Do  you  know  what  I  think 
I  shall  name  him  ?  '  Paris. ' ' 

"  Because  you  intend  to  conquer  him  ?" 

"  Partly  that,  but  not  in  the  way  you  mean.  He  is 
beautiful  and  wicked,  and  I  admire  but  do  not  trust  him. 
He  fascinates  me  because  he  is  such  a  picture  and  has 
such  spirits.  But  those  same  spirits,  I  fear,  do  not  in 
dicate  simply  animal  life.  '  Paris  '  is  malicious  —  like 
N  193 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

French  wit.  He  may  learn  to  like  me,  yet  he  would  run 
away  with  me  and  drag  me  to  my  death  if  he  could. 
That  is  Paris." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  like  your  Paris/'  said  Town- 
shend. 

"  I  love  it.     And  yet,  I  shiver." 

The  landau  crossed  the  Pont  de  la  Concorde. 

Rose  attempted  to  follow,  but  the  chestnut  lowered  his 
head  and  kept  on  down  the  Quai  d'Orsai.  Townshend 
looked  anxious,  and  the  groom  uncrossed  his  arms  sev 
eral  times,  but  Rose  pressed  her  lips  together  and  sat  up 
very  straight.  No  girl  in  all  America  had  managed  as 
many  horses  as  this  child  of  a  cavalry  regiment. 

As  she  reached  the  Pont  Alexaridre  III.  a  steam-tram 
gave  vent  to  one  of  the  unearthly  screeches  which  render 
Paris  so  horrible  to  sensitive  ears,  and  then  that  which 
Townshend  had  been  waiting  for  happened.  The 
chestnut  reared  and  plunged  and  reared  again,  in  immi 
nent  danger  of  falling  over  backward.  Rose  cut  him 
savagely  with  her  whip,  but  with  a  sudden  movement  of 
his  head  he  got  the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  one  rein  under  the 
curved  shaft,  and  bolted  down  the  Quai  d'Orsai. 

Townshend  seemed  to  settle  in  his  saddle,  as  with  set 
teeth,  he  galloped  after  the  flying  dog-cart  which  spun 
along  in  front  of  him.  His  American  mare,  recognizing 
the  work  before  her,  stretched  her  neck  and  flew  after  the 
chestnut.  Townshend  urged  her  on,  but  the  chestnut 
was  as  fleet  as  the  wind  and  easily  kept  ahead. 

Suddenly,  to  Townshend' s  horror,  he  saw  Rose's 
groom  spring  over  the  back  of  the  seat  and  drop  to  the 
ground.  He  saw  the  reason  with  a  beating  heart.  The 
street  was  being  repaired  and  a  gendarme  was  regu 
lating  the  traffic,  which  was  obliged  to  pass  a  monster 
steam-roller  single  file. 

Rose  herself  grew  a  little  pale  when  she  saw  what  was 
ahead  of  her.  Then  she  heard  Townshend  galloping  up 

194 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

behind  her.  She  heard  a  whip  cut  the  air  and  a  series 
of  shrill  screams  from  Alphonse  the  groom.  Then 
Townshend  gained  on  her.  Out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye 
she  could  see  Minnehaha's  nose,  with  her  nostrils  show 
ing  red  ;  then  her  distended  eye,  then  her  delicate  ears, 
then  her  flying  mane,  then  Townshend  himself.  In  this 
fashion,  on  they  rushed,  the  wind  singing  past  their  ears, 
and  the  gravel  flying  from  beneath  their  racers'  hoofs. 
Townshend  spoke  to  the  mare,  and,  gathering  herself 
for  a  supreme  effort,  she  reached  out  and  came  abreast 
of  the  chestnut. 

With  a  lithe  movement,  like  an  Indian  in  battle. 
Townshend  let  himself  half-way  out  of  the  saddle,  hold 
ing  the  mare's  mane,  and  as  she  came  up  with  the  chest 
nut,  he  swung  down  still  lower,  until  only  his  leg  was 
in  the  saddle,  and  with  one  strong,  downward  jerk  he  got 
the  rein  from  under  the  shaft  and  loosened  the  bit.  The 
chestnut's  satin  skin  twitched  all  over,  and  little  red 
flames  seemed  to  come  into  his  wicked  eyes  as  he  felt  a 
strong  man's  hand  on  the  lines. 

When  Townshend  had  made  him  stand,  trembling  and 
fretting  and  longing  to  bolt  again,  the  man  turned  and 
looked  into  the  girl's  eyes.  She  was  sitting  quite  still 
and  smiling  faintly.  Flecks  of  foam  from  the  horses 
spotted  her  gown,  and  her  dog-skin  driving-glove  was 
split  across  the  palm.  Otherwise  she  was  quite  un 
ruffled. 

"  Were  you  frightened  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  tone. 
His  own  face  was  deadly  white.  Hers  was  brilliant 
and  full  of  spirit. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  I  think  not.  I  might  have  been, 
only  I  knew  that  you  were  behind  me  and  that  you  saw." 

A  gleam  came  into  the  man's  eyes. 

"  I  was  angry,"  she  confessed,  "  when  Alphonse  de 
serted  me." 

"  I  didn't  have  time  to  stop  to  kill  him,"  said  Town- 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

shend,  savagely,  "  but  I  gave  him  a  cut  across  the  face 
with  my  whip  that  he  will  not  forget  !" 

"  I  have  had  English  and  American  grooms,"  said 
Rose,  "and  I  have  ridden  and  driven  wild,  runaway 
horses.  I  have  been  a  little  too  daring,  perhaps,  and 
so  have  got  into  more  accidents  than  I  ought,  but  I  never 
was  deserted  in  time  of  danger  by  any  man  except  a 
Frenchman  !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CLEMENCE  was  on  her  knees  Saturday  morning, 
before  one  of  Miss  Hollenden's  trunks,  packing  up  the 
effects  from  the  entresol  which  were  to  go  into  the  beau 
tiful  hotel  in  the  Boulevard  St.  Germain.  She  talked 
aloud  as  she  folded  gowns  and  stuffed  the  sleeves  of 
bodices  with  twisted  rolls  of  tissue-paper.  Her  work 
suited  her,  for  a  Frenchwoman  understands  clothes  as  a 
mother  understands  baby-talk.  She  fondled  the  deli 
cate  lingerie  which  Madame  Lucie  had  declared  would 
never  be  seen,  and  packed  it  with  unusual  care.  A 
smile  of  personal  triumph  illuminated  her  face  as  she 
realized  mademoiselle's  engagement,  and  she  fairly 
longed  for  an  opportunity  to  bait  her  foe.  But  how 
could  she  manage  it  without  appearing  undignified  ? 
She  went  to  the  bell  and  rang  for  the  butler. 

"  Where  is  mademoiselle,  Louis  ?"  she  asked. 

"  She  has  gone  out." 

"  Gone  out  ?  Alone  ?  Without  me  ?"  exclaimed 
Clemence. 

"  Yes,  Madame  Clemence.  She  said  to  tell  you  that 
she  had  gone  out  with  her  sister,  but  1  sent  Francois 
down  to  watch  her,  and  he  said  her  sister  was  not  there. 
He  spoke  to  Madame  Lucie,  who  was  just  coming  in,  and 
she  said  she  met  mademoiselle  with  a  long  dark  cloak 
on  and  a  thick  veil,  walking  alone." 

"  Then  how  could  she  tell  that  it  was  mademoiselle  ?" 
demanded  Clemence,  suspiciously. 

"  1  do  not  know,  Madame  Clemence." 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  Frenchwoman  thought  a  moment. 

"  When  did  she  go,  Louis  ?" 

"  On  this  instant.  Francois  was  just  telling  me  when 
you  rang." 

"  Ah,  good  !  You  are  very  intelligent,  Louis,  and  I 
want  you  to  do  something  which  requires  spirit  and  dis 
cretion.  Go  down,  as  if  you  were  going  out,  fall  into 
conversation  with  Madame  Lucie,  tell  her  that  I  am 
alone  and  packing  mademoiselle's  underwear,  and  that 
it  is  the  most  beautiful  that  you  ever  saw.  You  will 
do  this  ?" 

"  But  yes,  Madame  Clemence.  She  is  not  to  know 
that  you  sent  me  ?" 

"  Certainly  not !" 

"  But  I  am  to  arouse  her  curiosity  and  cause  her  to 
pay  you  a  visit  ?" 

"  Perfectly  !     What  spirit  you  display  !" 

"  I  will  go  at  once.  Might  I  put  a  bottle  of  cham 
pagne  on  the  ice  ?" 

"  If  you  will  be  so  amiable.  How  clever  of  you  to 
think  of  it !  I  think  I  would  have  one  of  the  extra  sec 
that  mademoiselle's  father  sent  yesterday." 

"  Good  !  And  I  will  place  a  box  of  Supreme  Pernots 
on  the  table." 

"  Thank  you  a  thousand  times.  And — Louis,  I  think 
you  might  have  a  bottle  of  mademoiselle's  Burgundy  for 
yourself.  We  are  to  move  so  soon,  it  will  never  be 
missed.  You  and  Francois  are  most  faithful." 

"  All  my  compliments,  Madame  Clemence  !  Behold 
me  !  I  go  on  the  instant." 

Clemence  had  not  more  than  time  to  tear  open  another 
trunk,  which  she  had  packed  with  infinite  pains  only 
that  morning,  before  she  heard  Madame  Lucie's  ring. 
She  strewed  every  piece  of  the  beautiful  lingerie  which 
Maria  owned  on  the  bed  and  chairs,  and  then  answered 
the  door  herself. 

198 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Ah,  my  friend  1"  she  cried,  at  the  sight  of  the  con 
cierge.  "  What  a  surprise  1  How  well  timed  is  your 
visit !  Mademoiselle  is  gone  out  and  1  am  quite  alone. 
Will  you  not  come  into  the  salon  and  let  me  offer  you 
a  drop  of  wine.?" 

"  What  an  amiable  heart  you  have,  my  dear,"  said 
the  concierge,  seating  herself  in  the  salon  but  looking 
suggestively  towards  the  boudoir.  Clemence  deliber 
ately  closed  the  door  with  many  apologies  and  smiled 
maliciously  at  her  visitor's  evident  chagrin. 

"  What  wine  do  you  prefer,  my  friend  ?  Will  you  not 
be  persuaded  to  try  a  glass  of  the  fine  old  champagne 
which  M.  Hollenden  sent  to  mademoiselle  yesterday  ?" 

"  With  much  pleasure  !  But  1  am  afraid  1  have  inter 
rupted  you.  Were  you  reading  as  1  came  in,  or  at  your 
devotions  ?" 

"  Neither,  my  dear.  I  was  only  packing  up  odds  and 
ends  of  mademoiselle's  finery.  Nothing  worth  mention 
ing,  for  although  to  poor  women  like  you  and  me  it  seems 
most  magnificent,  still,  it  is  nothing  to  the  trousseau 
which  is  being  ordered." 

"  So  !  she  is  ordering  her  trousseau,  is  she  ?  And  yet 
she  is  not  sure  of  him  !" 

"  How  do  you  know  she  is  not  sure  of  him  ?  I  tell  you 
1  am  in  her  confidence,  and  I  know.  See,  is  not  this  a 
fine  wine  ?" 

"  Delicious  !  Superb  !"  cried  the  concierge,  clasping 
her  hands  and  rolling  up  her  eyes  in  an  ecstasy.  "  Quite 
the  finest  I  have  ever  tasted  1" 

"  Is  it  as  fine  as  the  Burgundy  which  Madame  Fla- 
mont  on  the  third  floor  uses  ?"  asked  Clemence,  with 
elaborate  innocence. 

"  Better  !  Much  better  !"  affirmed  Madame  Lucie. 
"  Yes,  thank  you,  I  will  have  another  glass.  Where  is 
it  to  be  had  ?  1  think  Lili  would  like  some.  Whatever 
she  wishes  she  gets,  my  Lili  !" 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Ah  !  I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  But  I  am  afraid  she 
cannot  get  this  wine,  as  M.  Hollenden  has  taken  the 
entire  vintage.  It  is  very  rare  and  very  fine.  Hold 
your  glass  out  for  a  drop  more  !  Ah,  that  goes  better  !" 

"  Where  has  mademoiselle  gone  with  the  dark  cloak 
and  the  thick  veil  ?"  asked  the  concierge. 

"Ah  !  that  is  a  secret,"  laughed  Clemence.  "  1  am 
surprised  that  you  knew  her.  You  are  very  clever, 
Madame  Lucie  !  Very  clever  and  very  observing.  Tell 
me,  how  can  you  discover  so  much  ?  As  for  me,  I  am  but 
a  stupid  fat  fool,  and  I  only  see  what  is  under  my  nose." 

"  Ah !  it  was  quite  easy,"  said  the  concierge,  bridling 
and  smoothing  her  gown  over  her  knees.  "  You  ma 
lign  yourself.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  you  more 
than  a  match  for  me.  I  saw  mademoiselle's  hands  ! 
Mon  Dieu  !  It  was  enough.  Of  course  we  who  serve 
her  admire  her  good  points,  as  you  say ;  but  just  be 
tween  ourselves,  over  our  wine,  we  may  admit  that  the 
good  God  never  made  such  hands  on  a  human  being 
before.  They  are  like  a  monkey's  claws." 

"  Her  hands  are  not  beautiful,  truly,  but  still,  I  am 
surprised  that  you  should  be  so  positive  that  it  was  ma 
demoiselle  just  by  one  glance  at  her  hands.  Surely 
there  must  be  other  hands  in  the  world  quite  like  them  !" 

"  Never  !"  cried  the  concierge.  "  I  would  know  them 
anywhere  !  They  are  so  ugly  !  I  could  identify  her  in 
the  Morgue,  even  if  there  were  nothing  else  left  to  see  !" 

"  Ah !  but  you  are  observing,"  said  Clemence,  realiz 
ing  the  truth  of  Lucie's  shrewdness. 

"  Now,  then,  we  have  drunk  the  bottle.  Pray  go  on 
with  your  packing.  Perhaps  I  might  even  help  you, 
if  you  are  willing,"  said  Lucie,  rising. 

"  Oh,  you  are  too  amiable  !  I  was  just  folding  a  lit 
tle  of  this  lingerie.  Of  course  she  will  not  use  this  when 
she  is  married.  She  has  ordered  some  much  finer." 

"  Finer  !"  gasped  the  concierge.     "  Finer  !     But  it  is 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

impossible  to  make  lingerie  finer  than  this  !  What  em 
broidery  ! — and  all  real  lace  !  It  is  exquisite  !  It  is  fit 
for  a  princess !" 

"  This  is  only  a  little  of  it,"  said  Clemence.  "  That 
other  trunk  is  quite  full  of  it.  But  the  other  will  be 
finer,  for  it  will  be  for  the  eyes  of  her  bridegroom.  It 
will  not  go  unseen,  as  this  has  done." 

The  concierge  smiled. 

"  We  shall  see,"  she  said.  "  One  thing  I  know,  and 
that  is  that  she  will  not  see  her  bridegroom,  as  you  call 
him,  to-morrow  !" 

"  Pardon !  But  I  am  sure  she  will !  She  is  invited 
to  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Briancourt's  to-morrow,  and 
he  also  will  be  there.  I  have  heard  him  tell  her  so  !" 

"  And  I  say  he  will  not,  for  he  will  be  at  Barbizon  !  I 
tell  you  what  I  know  !  He  has  taken  rooms  at  the  Hotel 
de  la  Foret  for  to-night  and  to-morrow  night.  And  he 
will  not  go  alone  !" 

Clemence  refused  to  see  Madame  Lucie's  knowing 
looks,  which,  if  she  noticed,  she  must  challenge. 

"  Ah  !  perhaps  he  has  changed  his  mind,"  she  said, 
carelessly.  "  It  is  nothing.  She  will  not  care.  She 
sees  him  very  often." 

"  Never  here  !"  cried  the  concierge.  "  He  never  comes 
to  see  her  here  !" 

"  Ah  !  it  would  not  be  proper,  Madame  Lucie.    You 
forget  that  a  young  girl  in  good  society  is  not  like  a  co-  . 
cotte.    She  may  not  receive  a  gentleman  unchaperoned !" 

"  There  is  the  bell,  Madame  Clemence  !  Pardon  !  I 
have  never  seen  your  kitchen.  Might  I  just  speak  to 
Francois  while  Louis  answers  it  ?  I  will  take  my  leave 
of  you  here  and  go  down  by  the  back  stairs,  if  you  will 
permit.  Au  revoir !  and  all  my  compliments  on  the 
wine  1" 

Clemence  was  on  her  knees  again  before  the  trunks 
when  Maria  entered,  with  her  cloak  across  her  arm. 

201 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  How  hot  it  is  !"  she  cried,  sinking  into  a  chair.  "  Fan 
me,  Clemence,  and  take  my  boots  off." 

"  You  have  fatigued  yourself,  mademoiselle,  going 
about  in  the  hot  sun  with  your  sister.  And  then  the 
weight  of  this  cloak  !  Why  did  you  carry  it  ?" 

"  I  didn't  carry  it,  I  wore  it  !"  snapped  Maria.  "And 
I  wore  this  veil  and  went  alone.  If  I  am  in  a  conspir 
acy,  I  will  be  a  conspirator  !  But  I  have  failed  misera 
bly,  and  you  must  do  it  for  me  I" 

"  Do  what,  mademoiselle  ?    You  may  command  me." 

"  I  have  been  walking  up  and  down  in  front  of  the 
Comtesse  de  Brissy's,  trying  to  ascertain  if  I  might  see 
the  marquis  ;  but  although  I  know  that  both  the  ladies 
are  out,  I  dared  not  go  and  ask  for  him.  It  is  not  yet 
noon,  so  he  has  not  even  breakfasted.  You  must  go 
there  at  once  and  arrange  a  rendezvous  for  us.  I  will 
wait  in  the  little  hair-dresser's  shop  on  the  corner.  Tell 
him  I  must  see  him  at  once.  It  is  most  important." 

"  Very  good  !  We  shall  set  out  at  once.  I  have  put 
on  the  tan  shoes,  which  mademoiselle  will  find  easier. 
Let  me  tell  Louis  that  we  are  leaving,  and  to  serve  break 
fast  on  our  return." 

Maria  waited  in  the  little  shop,  nervously  clasping 
and  unclasping  her  thin  hands,  which  were  bare.  Her 
thick  veil  stifled  her,  and  her  emotion  caused  her  heart 
to  beat  violently. 

"  Why  do  people  stare  so  at  my  hands  ?"  she  muttered. 
"  Have  they  never  seen  a  diamond-ring  before  ?" 

She  hid  them  under  her  cloak  and  walked  to  the  door. 
The  hair-dresser  offered  to  serve  her,  but  she  shook  her 
head  irritably.  He  brought  her  a  fan,  but  she  threw 
it  on  the  floor,  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left 
her  to  herself. 

Presently  Maria  saw  Clemence  coming,  and  she  hur 
ried  to  meet  her.  The  hair-dresser  ran  to  the  door  and 
looked  after  her. 

202 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Ah,  ha  !"  he  chuckled,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  It  is 
mademoiselle  the  American,  whose  father  is  trying  to 
marry  her  to  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil.  The  dot  will  be 
fifty  millions  of  francs,  it  is  said.  Mon  Dieu !  It  would 
be  more  than  that  if  I  were  the  marquis  !  See  what  ex 
pensive  tastes  bring  one  to  !  What  a  carriage  !  Like 
a  grasshopper  in  a  fit  !  Run,  wife,  and  see  if  it  is  not 
a  rendezvous  !  I  saw  the  noble  ladies  drive  out  an  hour 
ago  with  couronnes  for  the  tomb  of  the  comte.  Made 
moiselle  is  turning  in  at  their  hotel.  Follow  them,  I 
beg  !  Ah  !  she  threw  my  fan  on  the  floor,  did  she  ? 
Well,  I  shall  have  her  secret  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Courage,  mademoiselle,"  whispered  Clemence,  as 
they  were  shown  in.  "  M.  le  Marquis  did  me  the  honor 
to  receive  me  in  person,  and  he  seemed  overwhelmed 
by  your  courtesy  in  coming.  He  is  quite  alone.  1  will 
wait  in  the  corridor.  Gather  yourself  together  and 
hold  your  head  up  with  him.  He  admires  spirit." 

The  marquis  hastened  to  meet  his  fiancee  as  she 
entered  the  salon,  and  led  her  to  his  cabinet  de  travail. 

She  flung  back  her  veil,  as  she  had  seen  Ellen  Terry 
remove  hers,  but  the  impression  she  had  intended  to 
make  upon  Raoul  was  marred  by  the  perspiration  which 
streamed  down  her  hot  face. 

"  My  darling  !"  cried  the  marquis,  who  had  nerved 
himself  for  the  interview.  His  creditors  were  becoming 
so  impertinent  that  he  had  determined  that  very  day 
to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis  at  once.  Maria's  visit  was 
most  opportune. 

Emboldened  by  his  ardor,  Maria  threw  herself  into  his 
arms  and  embraced  him  damply. 

"  What  brings  you  here,  my  beautiful  one  ?  Have 
things  gone  wrong  with  you  ?  Have  you  come  to  break 
our  engagement  ?  Do  you  no  longer  love  me  ?" 

Maria  half-way  withdrew  herself  and  blinked  her  in 
credulous  eyes  at  him,  like  a  weak-eyed  terrier. 

203 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  No  !"  she  gasped.  "  Quite  the  contrary  !  I  have 
come  to  tell  you  that  the  time  has  arrived  to  speak  to 
my  father.  Rose  is  doing  all  she  can  to  prejudice  him 
against  you  and  to  separate  us.  I  am  afraid  he  will 
listen  to  her,  if  you  do  not  act  at  once." 

"  Ah !  your  sister  is  jealous,  that  is  all,  my  little  brown 
mouse  !  What  small  hands  you  have  !  See,  they  will 
need  such  a  tiny  wedding-ring  !  So  your  sister  is  talk 
ing  against  me  !  What  did  she  say  ?" 

"  She  told  my  father  and  Shirley  that  you  cared  only 
for  my  money  and  that  you  had  offered  yourself  to  her  !" 

"  Offered  myself  to  her  !     Did  she  tell  that  ?" 

"  Well,  no.  It  was  Shirley  who  let  it  out,"  admitted 
Maria. 

"  What  an  odd  mistake  !  I  asked  your  brother  for 
his  sister's  hand.  I  meant  you,  my  darling !  I  never 
thought  of  Rose.  How  droll  that  she  should  have  taken 
it  to  herself  !  She  must  be  very  conceited." 

"  She  is  !"  cried  Maria,  violently.  "  She  thinks  every 
one  who  looks  at  her  is  in  love  with  her !" 

"  How  very  amusing  !" 

"  But — you — did  you  never  make  love  to  her — on  the 
ship,  or  in  London  ?"  demanded  Maria,  suspiciously. 

"  Oh-h  \"  said  Raoul,  with  a  shrug,  "  I  paid  her  com 
pliments,  of  course  !  Who  wouldn't  ?  But  as  to  love  ! 
I  can  assure  you,  from  my  heart,  that  if  she  makes  me 
trouble,  or  comes  between  my  beautiful  bride  and  me,  I 
shall  hate  her  !  So  !  1  am  only  marrying  you  for 
your  money,  am  I  ?  See  !  I  love  you  !  I  love  you  ! 
Give  me  your  lips  !  Kiss  me  !  Kiss  me  !" 

"  Ah-h  !"  gasped  Maria. 

He  drew  her  to  a  chaise  longue. 

Maria  came  out  proudly.  Clemence  peered  sharply 
into  her  triumphant  face,  as  she  adjusted  the  thick  veil. 

"  Has  mademoiselle  succeeded  in  her  design  ?"  she 
asked,  respectfully. 

204 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  He  will  ask  for  my  hand  at  once — to-day  !"  said 
Maria,  laughing  hysterically. 

"  Then  control  yourself,  I  pray  \"  whispered  Clemence. 
"  Hush  !  Step  into  this  doorway  and  look  at  these 
photographs.  'Madame  la  Comtesse  is  just  returning." 

When  he  had  shown  her  to  the  door,  without  summon 
ing  the  butler,  the  Frenchman  poured  out  a  small  glass 
of  fin  champagne  and  gulped  it  down.  He  continued  to 
make  wry  faces  long  after  the  taste  of  the  fiery  liquid 
had  passed  away. 

He  was  intensely  uncomfortable.  Two  of  his  largest 
notes  fell  due  that  day,  and  his  creditors  impudently  re 
fused  to  believe  the  story  of  his  engagement.  He  was 
expected  by  his  family  to  call  upon  the  Duchesse  de 
Briancourt  the  next  day,  and  Lili  had  quarrelled  with 
him  so  violently  on  account  of  the  reports  of  his  mar 
riage  which  her  mother  brought  to  her  that  he  had  only 
partially  pacified  her  by  promising  to  take  her  to  Barbizon 
for  Sunday.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Lili  was  not  only 
the  most  beautiful  creature  in  Paris,  but  she  held  his 
notes  and  threatened  to  disgrace  him.  He  had  intro 
duced  Shirley  to  her,  but  to  the  Frenchman's  amazement 
and  Lili's  fury,  Shirley  had  never  availed  himself  of  the 
opportunity  to  go  a  second  time.  In  addition  to  all  this, 
Maria  had  thoroughly  alarmed  him  with  her  news. 
He  knew  that  Rose  could  ruin  his  chances  with  her 
father,  possibly  even  with  Maria  herself,  if  she  were  to 
repeat  the  episode  of  the  proposal  in  the  little  salon.  He 
ground  his  teeth  again  as  he  remembered  her  words  of 
contempt. 

"  She  hates  me,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  yet  I  must  dis 
semble  and  conquer  in  spite  of  her.  What  a  beautiful 
young  animal  she  is  !  Yet  how  gladly  I  could  see  her 
humiliated — ruined  forever,  if  need  be  !" 

He  rose  when  his  mother  and  sister  came  in  and  em 
braced  them  tenderly. 

205 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Behold  me  !"  he  said.  "  The  lamb  is  about  to  be 
sacrificed  !  I  go  at  once  to  propose  for  the  hand  of  my 
bride  !" 

"  To-day,  Raoul  !"  said  his  mother.  She  took  a  step 
forward  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  Her  proud  old 
face  became  colder  and  harder.  "Alas  !  that  it  should  be 
necessary,  my  son  !"  she  said.  Her  voice  trembled  with 
emotion.  "  Were  it  not  for  Vrianault,  where  my  chil 
dren  were  born  ;  the  place  where  your  father  took  me  as 
a  bride  ;  the  chateau  of  our  family  for  so  many,  many 
generations,  I  would  not  permit  you  to  sacrifice  your 
self.  Believe  me,  my  boy,  I  do  not  grudge  your  debts- 
They  are  only  those  of  a  gentleman  of  our  blood — of  a 
French  nobleman.  I  would  willingly  allow  you  all  you 
have  had  of  us,  if  that  were  all.  But  you  know  that 
to  part  with  Vrianault — or  even  one  of  its  tapestries, 
would  nearly  break  my  heart.  That  involves  our  family 
honor.  Vrianault  is  a  trust,  and  as  such  is  sacred. 
By  this  marriage  you  sacrifice  yourself  for  the  honor 
of  your  mother  and  of  your  family  quite  as  sincere 
ly  as  if  you  turned  monk  in  the  cause  of  our  Holy 
Church." 

The  old  Frenchwoman  bowed  her  head  and  her  son 
kissed  her  with  cold  lips.  He  attempted  to  reply,  but 
stammered,  and  then,  without  another  word,  he  hastily 
left  the  room  and  made  his  way  to  the  Hotel  Continental, 
where  Maria  had  assured  him  he  would  find  her  father 
at  this  hour. 

Mr.  Hollenden  was  writing  at  a  little  inlaid  desk,  so 
small  and  lady-like  that  he  occasionally  swore  when  his 
papers  fell  on  the  floor. 

When  the  Frenchman's  card  was  handed  to  him,  he 
held  it  away  at  arm's-length  and  read  the  name. 

"  Show  him  in,"  he  said. 

The  marquis  entered  with  his  usual  manner  of  ex 
quisite  breeding,  and  even  the  flower  in  his  buttonhole 

206 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

was  not  lost  upon  the  American,  who  looked  him  over 
from  head  to  foot  as  he  approached. 

Under  his  children's  tutelage,  the  Westerner  was 
learning  the  -make-up  of  a  gentleman.  He  observed 
closely,  and  saw  with  secret  chagrin  his  own  lack  in 
social  observances.  He  watched  Shirley,  and  in  pri 
vate  practised  his  manner.  Before  the  mirror,  in  his 
own  room,  with  the  door  carefully  locked,  he  worked 
himself  into  a  steam,  putting  on  and  off  his  Inverness 
coat,  as  he  had  seen  Townshend  manage  his.  He 
adopted  a  boutonniere  in  cold  daylight  with  a  tremor  of 
shame,  but  he  still  stuck  at  cigarettes,  and  clung  to 
cigars  with  dogged  persistence.  Not  even  for  the  touch 
of  elegance  which  he  felt  that  they  would  give,  could 
he  lose  what  he  considered  the  last  vestige  of  American 
manhood.  He  was  fast  becoming  the  most  explosive 
element,  if  he  only  knew  it,  in  the  crucible  he  fondly 
imagined  he  was  mixing  with  so  cool  a  head  and  so 
steady  a  hand.  The  atmosphere  of  Paris  was  altering 
him  within  and  without.  And  thus  his  respect  for 
Maria's  knowledge  of  European  customs,  where  even 
Shirley  and  Rose  were  often  at  fault,  increased  daily. 
A  sneer  on  her  little  thin  face  would  cause  him  to  color, 
and  her  sarcasm  often  made  him  tingle  with  shame 
to  the  tips  of  his  fingers  as  he  remembered  how  little  he 
knew  and  the  mistakes  he  continued  to  make  in  spite 
of  his  efforts. 

He  no  longer  remained  seated  when  a  visitor  entered. 
He  received  the  marquis  with  cold  courtesy,  but  his 
American  manner  returned  as  the  facts  of  the  French 
man's  intercourse  with  his  family  recurred  to  his  mind. 
He  might  have  been  in  his  Wall  Street  office,  receiving 
stock  quotations,  as  he  looked  the  marquis  in  the  eye 
with  a  keenness  which  quite  upset  the  Frenchman's 
nerve.  Mr.  Hollenden  before  now  had  measured  an 
antagonist  over  a  poker-table  in  Nevada  when  there  was 

207 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

a  suspicion  of  crookedness,  and  the  other  man  had 
quailed  before  the  determination  of  his  cold  blue  eyes, 
with  their  white  lashes,  as  the  Frenchman  was  quailing 
now.  The  insolence  which  the  marquis  had  been  gather 
ing  up  since  he  left  his  mother  began  to  desert  him,  and 
he  realized  before  a  word  had  been  spoken  that  Rose's 
warning  had  taken  effect. 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 

If  d'Auteuil  could  have  thrown  up  the  game  then  and 
there  he  would  have  done  it,  for  his  sensitive  pride  felt 
at  once  that  at  the  hands  of  this  American  he  was  to 
meet  his  Waterloo.  For  one  instant  he  hesitated  pal 
pably.  Then  a  cold  sweat  broke  out  over  him  from 
head  to  foot  as  he  realized  what  lay  behind  him  and 
what  before  him  if  he  failed.  His  nerve  returned.  He 
gripped  the  brim  of  his  hat  so  tightly  that  he  strained 
the  fastenings  of  his  glove. 

"  You  can  do  much,  if  you  will  but  listen  to  me,  dear 
M.  Hollenden,  and  more  if  you  will  grant  my  request. 
1  am  come  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  your  daughter.  I  wish 
to  make  her  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil." 

Mr.  Hollenden  looked  at  the  carpet  and  stroked  his 
mustache.  The  marquis  took  courage. 

"  You  wish  to  marry  my  daughter?"  said  the  American. 

"  1  do,  indeed,"  said  Raoul,  fervently. 

"  Ah  !     Which  one  ?" 

The  American's  sudden,  darting  glance  disconcerted 
the  Frenchman  quite  as  considerably  as  the  question. 

"  Maria — the  elder  one." 

"  Maria  ?    You  are  quite  sure  that  it  is  Maria  ?" 

"  Quite  !"  said  Raoul,  coldly. 

He  resented  Mr.  Hollenden's  chaffing  tone. 

"  That  is  a  very  proud  old  title  you  have  to  bestow. 
I  feel  that  1  ought  to  tell  you  that  Maria  is  a  child  by  my 
first  wife,  and  that,  even  judged  by  American  standards, 
her  mother  was  not  a  lady.  Rose's  mother  was." 

208 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  1  quite  understand,"  said  the  marquis,  cheerfully. 
"  That  need  not  come  between  us  in  the  least." 

"  Consider,  marquis.  Maria's  mother  was,  in  fact,  my 
cook  !" 

The  Frenchman  started.  This,  then,  was  the  secret 
of  poor  Maria's  vulgarity.  It  was  a  bitter  moment  for 
d'Auteuil,  but  memory  and  fear  rushed  to  his  rescue, 
and  he  answered,  steadily  : 

"  It  is  very  honorable  of  you  to  be  so  frank,  my  dear 
M.  Hollenden.  But  1  have  quite  made  up  my  mind  to 
marry  her." 

"  Oh,  you  have,  have  you  ?  Well,  that  is  handsome 
of  you  !  Do  you  love  her  ?  1  feel  that  1  ought  to  warn 
you  that  Maria,  while  an  excellent  woman  in  many 
ways,  would  try  any  man's  love.  In  fact,  she  would 
drive  a  sensitive  man  crazy.  Maria  tells  me  that  you 
are  sensitive.  '  Fin,'  she  calls  you  in  French." 

*  I  thank  her  for  the  compliment,"  said  Raoul,  pain 
fully.  He  wondered  if  the  American  knew  how  he  was 
torturing  him.  "  I  think  I  understand  her  as  well  as  a 
man  may  understand  any  woman,  and  I  still  say  I  wish 
to  marry  her." 

"  You  love  her  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart  !     I  adore  her  !" 

"  You  mean  Maria  ?  You  understand  that  it  is  Ma 
ria  we  are  discussing  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  understand  !"  cried  the  marquis,  losing 
his  temper  a  trifle.  "  I  love  her  to  distraction  !  I  long 
to  marry  her,  in  spite  of  all  obstacles  !  Nothing  shall 
prevent  me.  I  will  have  her  !" 

"  Ah  !  1  like  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  way,"  said  Mr. 
Hollenden,  enthusiastically.  "  1  like  the  tone  of  sincer 
ity.  1  believe  you  really  love  her  !" 

The  Frenchman  drew  a  long  sigh  of  such  absolute 
relief  that  he  almost  sobbed.     He  wondered  how  he 
could  have  been  so  doubtful  of  his  success. 
o  209 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  assure  you  on  my  honor  that  I  am  perfectly  sincere, 
and  that  I  truly  love  her.  Why  else  should  I  wish  to 
marry  her  ?" 

*  To  be  sure  1"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  cordially.  "As  1 
understand  it,  you  assure  me  on  your  word  of  honor 
that  you  love  her  so  sincerely  that  you  wish  to  marry 
her  in  spite  of  her  birth,  and  that  nothing  can  alter 
your  determination  to  marry  her  ?" 

"  You  have  understood  me  perfectly.  I  only  await 
your  consent." 

"  You  have  that  with  all  my  heart  !"  said  Mr.  Hollen 
den,  holding  out  his  hand  frankly. 

The  Frenchman  grasped  it  with  eagerness  and  held 
it  firmly. 

"  You  understand,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  still  clasping 
the  Frenchman's  hand,  "  that  Maria  will  have  no  dot .  I, 
as  an  American,  could  not  harbor  the  idea  of  selling  my 
daughter.  I  shall  give  her  something  handsome  as  a 
wedding  present — a  house,  perhaps,  or  a  complete  set  of 
diamonds,  with  a  tiara — it  would  become  her.  But  her 
money  will  only  come  at  my  death.  She  will  have 
enough  then,  I  assure  you." 

Mr.  Hollenden  still  wrung  the  Frenchman's  hand 
and  laid  his  left  on  Raoul's  padded  shoulder,  which 
limply  fell  away  from  the  American's  now  odious  cor 
diality  with  a  disgust  which  brought  a  gleam  of  mali 
cious  delight  into  the  older  man's  eyes. 

"  You  know,"  pursued  Mr.  Hollenden,  still  holding 
Raoul's  reluctant  hand  and  shaking  it,  "that  I  have 
heard  so  much  about  a  Frenchman's  love  of  money, 
that  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  prove  the  contrary  by 
so  illustrious  a  marriage  in  my  own  family  to  a  wife 
without  a  penny.  I  am  sure  it  is — it  must  be  the  first 
instance  of  a  French  nobleman  marrying  absolutely  for 
love  !  It  is  handsome  of  you  !" 

The  face  of  the  Frenchman  became  purple  with  rage, 

210 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

but  he  controlled  himself  with  a  violent  effort  to  make 
one  more  appeal. 

"  But,  my  dear  M.  Hollenden  !  A  Frenchman  always 
expects  a  dot !  One  never  marries  without  a  settlement ! 
Never  !  Never  P 

"  Ah,  but  Maria  will  not  have  a  sou  !  And  I  have 
your  word  of  honor  that  you  love  her  so  sincerely  that 
no  obstacle  could  prevent  your  marrying  her  !  As  1 
said  before,  it  is  handsome  of  you,  for  Maria  is  not  a 
beauty — not  as  pretty  as  Rose,  for  instance.  To  be 
sure  she  will  have  no  ready  money — " 

With  a  cry  of  rage  the  Frenchman  broke  away  from 
Mr.  Hollenden,  his  mouth  twitching,  his  eyes  flaming. 

"  Sapristi !  You  mock  me  !  Votre  fille !  Pah ! 
Rastaquouere  !  Je  m'en  vais  !  Bon  jour  !" 

The  marquis  always  forgot  his  English  when  he  was 
angry.  He  bowed  stiffly  and  turned  away. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  marry  her  ?"  cried  Mr.  Hollen 
den. 

"  Mais,  non  !" 

"  Ah,  consider  !"  he  said.  "  She  will  have  no  money, 
but  I  shall  give  her  a  house — " 

"  Mais,   non  !" 

"  Or  a  tiara  P  called  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  Non  !  Non  !  Non  !"  shrieked  the 
Frenchman,  flinging  both  hands  above  his  head  and 
shaking  them  wildly. 

He  turned  at  the  door  to  speak,  biting  his  purple  lips 
and  trembling  with  mortification  and  anger,  but  finally 
made  but  another  stiff  bow  and  left  the  room  abruptly. 

Mr.  Hollenden  listened  to  the  closing  of  the  outer  door, 
and  then  sank  into  a  chair,  speechless  with  silent,  in 
ternal  laughter. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  rage  of  the  Frenchman  as  he  drove  away  from 
the  Hotel  Continental  was  frightful.  He  gnawed  his 
lip  until  it  bled.  The  full  consequence  of  his  failure 
upon  his  own  life  had  not  yet  been  borne  in  upon  him. 
His  sensitive  vanity  was  so  wounded  that  his  mind 
dwelt  only  upon  the  insolence  of  the  American  and  his 
own  pitiful  position.  It  never  occurred  to  him  to  admit 
even  to  himself  that  he  was  rightly  served  for  either  his 
duplicity  or  his  cold-blooded,  mercenary  motives.  Ac 
cording  to  his  code  of  honor,  he  had  acted  as  any  man 
should.  He  had  tried  to  secure  a  beautiful  wife  with 
those  desirable  millions,  and,  failing  in  that,  he  had 
contented  himself  with  the  other.  Any  man  in  his 
place,  he  believed,  would  have  been  a  fool  to  act  differ 
ently.  His  failure,  his  mortifying,  complete  chagrin, 
he  laid  at  Rose's  door,  and  with  the  unutterable  malice 
of  the  Gallic  nature,  so  inexplicable  to  the  Anglo-Saxon 
mind,  he  fell  to  plotting  for  his  revenge  upon  her.  He 
did  not  even  pause  to  contemplate  his  own  ruined  pros 
pects  in  his  rage  for  vengeance. 

A  nature  more  brutal,  a  man  of  lower  birth,  would 
have  longed  to  murder  his  enemy,  if  roused  to  the  pitch 
of  fury  under  which  Raoul  was  suffering.  But  to  the 
sensitive  Frenchman,  with  his  exquisite  nerves  and  his 
subtle  intelligence,  so  large  a  crime  as  murder  was  as 
completely  out  of  his  reckoning  as  self-crucifixion  would 
be.  He  knew  greatness  neither  in  vice  nor  virtue.  He 
read  Kipling's  "  Tomlinson,"  not  with  a  shrug  of  disgust, 

212 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

but  with  the  distaste  of  utter  uncomprehensiveness.  He 
feared  pain  of  any  sort  with  an  intensity  which  was 
almost  a  mania.  If  disgrace  or  poverty  threatened  him, 
he  viewed  suicide  as  the  only  honorable  way  out.  To 
live  and  suffer  nobly — it  would  be  the  act  of  a  fool,  or  of 
a  man  who  had  not  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  What 
the  Gaul  calls  pride  the  Anglo-Saxon  calls  vanity. 
Such  was  d'Auteuil's  code  of  honor.  Such  his  courage. 

He  drove  to  the  Jockey  Club  for  his  mail,  and  found 
several  letters  and  a  telegram. 

He  rang  the  bell  and  sent  a  man  to  search  for  his 
friend  the  Due  de  Treves.  The  man  came  back 
presently  to  say  that  the  due  could  not  be  found. 

The  telegram  was  from  Lili,  saying  that  she  had  been 
taken  violently  ill  and  could  not  see  him  until  Monday. 
It  was  sent  by  her  maid  at  the  same  moment  that  that 
innocent  young  creature,  Lili,  was  boarding  the  train 
at  the  Gare  St.  Lazare  for  St.  Germain  with  the  Due  de 
Treves. 

His  man  came  presently  to  say  that  he  had  succeeded, 
after  all,  in  trimming  the  marquis's  dog-cart  entirely  in 
pink  roses,  according  to  his  orders,  for  the  Fete  des  Fleurs 
that  afternoon,  but  that  it  had  been  the  most  difficult 
of  tasks,  and  had  required  the  utmost  skill  to  secure 
them. 

Raoul's  first  impulse  was  to  cancel  the  order  and  not 
to  attend  the  fete.  Then  he  hesitated.  His  dog-cart 
was  sure  to  be  the  handsomest  one  there.  It  always 
was.  Last  year  he  had  used  shaded  nasturtiums,  and 
Lili  had  worn  a  yellow  gown.  This  year  she  was  to 
have  worn  pink.  She  must  have  been  quite  ill  to  deny 
herself  both  the  fete  and  Barbizon.  She  would  have 
looked  lovely  in  pink — pink  suggested  Rose  Hollenden. 
How  he  would  enjoy  driving  her  in  that  rose-trimmed 
dog-cart  down  the  length  of  the  Bois,  and  compromising 
her  forever  in  the  eyes  of  all  Paris  !  His  eyes  sparkled 

213 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

at  the  thought.  She  was  an  American,  and  she  would 
not  realize  what  she  was  doing,  and  if  Maria  were  not 
with  her  when  she  started,  there  would  be  no  one  to 
warn  her.  The  more  he  dwelt  upon  the  idea,  the  more 
devilish  his  determination  became  to  avenge  himself 
upon  her  in  this  way.  It  would  be  perfectly  safe  for 
him,  for  the  Hollendens  would  never  discover  what  had 
taken  place,  while  in  the  eyes  of  his  whole  world  Rose's 
good  name  would  be  soiled  irretrievably.  After  one 
drive  in  the  Bois  in  company  with  a  Frenchman,  and 
unchaperoned,  a  woman's  name  would  always  be  shrug 
ged  at  by  some  in  any  gathering  of  the  haut  monde. 
They  would  not  cut  her — she  was  too  rich  for  that — but 
they  would  raise  the  eyebrows,  and  Raoul  would  always 
see  it  and  revel  in  his  revenge. 

While  he  was  ruminating,  Shirley  entered  the  club. 
D'Auteuil  called  him  to  his  table  and  they  sat  down 
together. 

"  I  beg  of  you  not  to  observe  my  preoccupation,"  said 
the  marquis,  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  "  but  I  am  griev 
ing  over  the  fact  that  I  can  go  no  more  to  your  house. 
I  have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  of  admiring 
both  of  your  sisters  too  ardently,  and  my  hand  has  been 
rejected  twice.  Therefore,  I  am  sad." 

Shirley  blushed  crimson.  He  had  just  heard  the 
story  from  his  father,  and  objected  strongly  to  the  mode 
of  dismissal  which  Mr.  Hollenden  had  employed,  for 
he  knew  the  frightful  mortification  which  had  been  in 
flicted  upon  the  thin-skinned  Frenchman.  If  he  had 
dreamed  that  d'Auteuil  was  going  to  mention  it,  wild 
horses  would  not  have  drawn  Shirley  to  the  club  that  day. 

"  Oh,  I  say  !"  said  Shirley,  awkwardly.  "  You  needn't 
feel  that  way,  you  know.  If  you  care  to  come,  we 
would  all  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"Alas  !  your  beautiful  sister  Rose  would  not,"  said 
d'Auteuil. 

214 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Rose  ?  Why,  she  is  the  most  forgiving,  generous 
creature  in  the  world.  She  would  make  everything  as 
smooth  as  possible  for  you." 

"  I  feel  so  sad  at  giving  up  your  friendship.  It  has 
been  charming  .for  me  to  know  you.  If  I  thought  she 
would  condone  my  fault — " 

"  Look  here,  d'Auteuil,"  said  Shirley,  leaning  for 
ward  and  tapping  Raoul's  coat-sleeve  with  his  cigarette- 
holder,  "  if  you  want  Rose  to  be  good  to  you,  let  her  see 
that  you  suffer.  Her  whole  heart  rushes  out  to  people 
who  are  in  trouble.  She  would  do  you  no  end  of  good, 
if  you  would  go  to  see  her.  Take  my  word  for  it,  and 
come  whenever  you  like.  We  shall  sleep  in  the  new 
house  to-night." 

"  Ah !  you  must  be  moving  in  to-day,  then  ?" 

"  We  are.  Rose  is  the  last  to  leave  the  hotel.  The 
others  have  gone.  1  left  her  packing  her  trunks  with 
her  maid." 

"  She  is  alone,  is  she  ?"  said  the  Frenchman.  "  Her 
sister  is  not  with  her  ?" 

"  No  ;  everybody  has  gone  except  Rose." 

D'Auteuil  rose  excitedly  and  looked  at  his  watch. 
Glad  of  an  excuse,  Shirley  left  him  and  joined  another 
party. 

Raoul  gave  some  hurried  orders  to  his  man,  exchanged 
his  white  flower  for  a  pink  one,  and,  jumping  into  a  cab, 
he  drove  to  the  Hotel  Continental.  He  sent  up  his  card 
with  a  few  words  of  petition  on  it,  and  Rose  received 
him. 

He  stood  before  her  the  picture  of  contrition. 

"  I  am  come  to  say  good-bye,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

Rose  flushed,  as  her  brother  had  done.  It  seemed 
astonishing  to  her  American  mind  to  speak  so  freely  of 
an  embarrassing  subject. 

"  Good-bye  ?"  she  repeated,  to  gain  time.  "  You  are 
going  away  ?" 

215 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  do  not  pretend  to  misunderstand 
me,"  said  the  Frenchman,  looking  her  fully  in  the  face 
with  his  sad  brown  eyes.  "  You  know  quite  well  that 
1  have  been  dismissed — and  how.  I  will  say  nothing 
of  M.  Hollenden's  manner.  He  is  your  father.  But  I 
grieve  to  think  that  by  my  eagerness  to  ally  myself  to 
your  family  1  have  forever  lost  the  friendship  of  the 
most  beautiful  woman  1  ever  have  seen" — Rose  made 
a  gesture  of  recoil — "  and  of  the  only  American,  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  be  so  rude  to  your  nation,  who  is  a 
lady,  judged  by  my  standards.  Your  brother  Shirley, 
also,  is  the  most  delightful  boy  1  ever  met.  It  cannot 
fail  to  grieve  me  that  by  this  one  indiscretion  1  have 
lost  you  both." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  like  us,"  said  Rose,  striving 
hard  to  overcome  her  repugnance  to  him.  "  But  if  you 
care  to  continue  Shirley's  acquaintance,  ]  am  sure  he 
would  be  glad." 

"  Put  not  yourself  ?  Alas  !  you  cannot  forget,  and 
you  cannot  forgive  1" 

"  I  cannot  forget,  certainly,"  answered  the  girl,  color 
ing  through  her  fresh,  rosy  skin  under  the  Frenchman's 
eyes  and  voice,  "  but  I  can  and  do  forgive.  As  I  under 
stand  the  matter,  I  have  less  to  forgive  than  my  sister." 

"  Let  us  leave  her  out  of  the  question.  This  affair  is 
quite  between  ourselves.  It  is  your  friendship  I  wish  to 
retain — yours  and  your  brother's.  Is  it  so  difficult  to 
condone  one  offence?  Is  a  man  utterly  condemned  in 
your  eyes  for  one  mistake  ?  Have  I  no  chance  with 
you  to  prove  that  I  can  make  myself  worthy  of  your 
clean  American  liking  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  !     I  am  not  so  unjust  as  all  that  !" 

"  Then  you  will  ask  yourself  to  forget  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  may  have  the  chance  to  atone  for  my  mistake  ? 
Consider  the  difference  in  our  customs.  You  will  make 

216 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

allowances,  will  you  not  ?  You  will  forget  that  you 
are  young  in  this  world's  ways,  and  you  will  govern 
yourself  like  a  woman  of  society  ?" 

"  If  you  like.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  thought  narrow  or 
prejudiced."  % 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle  !  What  an  angel's  heart  you 
have  !  Your  brother  assured  me  that  if  I  came  you 
would  do  this  !" 

"  Shirley  said  so  ?"  asked  Rose,  her  eyes  brightening 
with  pleasure.  She  was  especially  keen  for  her  broth 
er's  approval. 

"  He  told  me  not  half  an  hour  ago  at  the  club  that  you 
were  the  most  generous  creature  in  the  world,  with  a 
heart  of  gold." 

"  I  can't  imagine  Shirley  saying  such  a  thing,"  said 
the  girl,  smiling  brilliantly.  "  But  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  I  have  done  right  in  his  eyes." 

"  You  have  won  his  approval  and  my  respectful  ad 
miration.  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your  sweet 
graciousness.  Au  revoir,  mademoiselle.  I  am  on  my 
way  to  the  Fete  des  Fleurs,  and  my  dog-cart  is  waiting 
just  around  the  corner." 

"  The  Fdte  des  Fleurs  ?  Oh,  is  it  to-day  ?  I  had 
quite  forgotten.  Last  week  the  Baronne  Valencia  and 
Mr.  Townshend  spoke  of  taking  me,  but  they  were 
obliged  to  go  down  to  her  chateau  in  Touraine  Thurs 
day,  and  so  I  heard  no  more  about  it.  Where  is  your 
dog-cart  ?  Is  it  all  trimmed  with  flowers  ?  What  color 
have  you  chosen  ?  Oh,  I  know.  It  is  pink.  The 
flower  in  your  coat !  Will  you  drive  by  these  win 
dows  and  let  me  see  you  ?  I  never  saw  a  Fete  des 
Fleurs" 

The  Frenchman's  muscles  twitched  with  excitement. 
He  felt  that  the  meshes  were  closing  around  the  girl. 
He  was  already  winning. 

"  I  can  show  it  you  from  here.  Come  to  the  window." 

217 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Rose  flew  past  him  and  leaned  her  body  out  of  the 
window. 

"  Oh,  there  it  is  !  How  perfectly  lovely  !  What  heaps 
of  roses  !  What  heaps  of  them  !  And  all  over  the  har 
ness  !  I  didn't  know  you  put  them  on  the  horses.  That 
hoop  above  him  makes  it  look  like  the  pictures  of  a  troi 
ka.  I  suppose  the  girl  you  take  will  wear  pink.  What 
are  all  those  loose  flowers  for  on  the  floor  and  the  seat  ?" 

"  They  are  to  fling  at  the  other  carriages.  It  is  a 
battle  of  flowers,  you  understand." 

"  Do  you  aim  for  the  people  directly  ?  And  do  they 
throw  theirs  to  you  ?" 

"  Certainly.  But  would  you  like  to  see  this  one  ? 
Will  you  go  with  me  ?" 

"  In  that  lovely  cart  ?  I  should  think  I  would  !  1 
have  a  new  pink  gown  that  is  quite  the  prettiest  one  I 
ever  had.  Oh,  and  a  pink  parasol  and  a  rose-colored 
hat !  I  shall  just  match  !  I  have  sent  my  maid  over 
to  the  new  house,  so  will  you  give  me  an  extra  ten  min 
utes  to  dress  ?" 

"  All  the  time  you  wish  !     I  will  amuse  myself  here  !" 

"  Give  me  until  four  o'clock  !"  cried  Rose,  running  out 
of  the  room  like  an  enthusiastic  child. 

The  Frenchman  clasped  and  unclasped  his  hands  in 
his  nervous  excitement,  and  walked  the  floor  like  a  caged 
animal.  If  only  no  one  would  come  in  until  four  o'clock 
to  warn  her !  He  consulted  the  clock  and  compared  it 
with  his  watch  fifty  times.  He  started  like  a  criminal 
at  every  sound.  The  butler's  face  when  Rose  consented 
to  receive  him  alone  was  only  a  foretaste  of  the  delicious 
revenge  he  would  receive  when  all  Paris  would  be  raising 
the  eyebrows  in  the  same  way  only  one  short  hour  from 
now. 

At  ten  minutes  after  four  Rose  came  in  hurriedly. 

"  1  couldn't  help  it,"  she  panted.  "  Everything  went 
wrong.  1  couldn't  find  my  clothes.  1  think  Marie  has 

218 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

hidden  every  hair-pin  and  one  of  every  pair  of  shoes, 
and  the  very  things  1  needed  most  were  the  things  she 
has  packed.  But,  after  all,  1  did  pretty  well  to  keep 
you  waiting  only  ten  minutes  overtime,  didn't  1  ?" 

The  Frenchman  could  only  gasp  at  the  girl's  wonder 
ful  fresh  beauty.  Her  eagerness  sent  a  brilliancy  to 
her  eyes  and  her  vitality  made  his  blood  tingle.  The 
fragrance  of  her  laces,  the  delicate  odor  of  laces  which 
have  lain  on  a  dainty  woman's  breast,  and  her  breath 
upon  his  cheek  in  the  eagerness  of  her  explanation, 
maddened  the  Frenchman.  His  eyes  glistened  as  much 
at  the  unique  situation  of  being  utterly  alone  with  so 
beautiful  a  creature,  as  at  the  sight  of  her  loveliness. 
His  imagination  was  aflame  on  the  instant,  but  he  con 
quered  himself,  by  so  violent  an  effort  that  the  veins  in 
his  temples  beat  like  pulses,  and  led  the  way  down 
stairs. 

Rose,  all  innocent  of  the  false  step  she  was  taking, 
sprang  into  the  rose-trimmed  dog-cart  with  a  laugh  of 
sheer  delight.  The  porter  of  the  hotel  and  the  valet  of 
the  Frenchman  stared  in  surprise.  Raoul  saw  it  with 
a  pleasure  such  as  the  just  cannot  feel.  Malicious  joy 
has  a  poignancy  which  virtue  never  knows.  He  had 
rightly  planned.  He  was  about  to  blight  the  girl's  pure 
name,  and  yet  to  accomplish  it  in  a  safe  and  subtle 
manner  which  appealed  to  his  aesthetic  mind.  He  was 
not  soiling  his  hands,  nor  acting  contrary  to  his  code 
of  honor.  Was  the  Bois  not  a  public  thoroughfare? 
Would  not  all  Paris  see  that  he  was  candid  in  his 
methods  ?  Had  not  the  American  come  of  her  own  free 
will? 

He  could  not  fail  to  be  proud  of  the  tremendous  sensa 
tion  Rose  produced  from  the  moment  they  passed  the 
guards  at  the  gate  and  swung  into  the  long  line  of  car 
riages  which  moved  slowly  up  and  down  the  avenue,  two 
on  each  side  of  the  row  of  gendarmes,  going  in  contrary 

219 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

directions.  The  beauty  of  the  girl,  her  exquisite  rose 
costume,  the  handsome  cart,  more  artistically  trimmed 
than  any  of  the  others  and  exhaling  the  delicious  and 
costly  odor  of  hundreds  of  drooping  roses,  aroused  the 
utmost  enthusiasm  in  the  row  of  carriages  next  theirs, 
and  from  the  thousands  of  spectators  which  lined  the 
foot-path.  Those  who  had  engaged  chairs  rose  to  their 
feet  and  commented  audibly  upon  her  beauty.  Others 
crowded  forward.  Men  and  women  stood  upon  benches, 
and  a  perfect  rain  of  flowers  fell  upon  her. 

At  first  the  girl  started  and  seemed  a  trifle  frightened. 
But  the  marquis  reassured  her,  directed  her  how  to  fling 
hers  in  return,  and  in  five  minutes  the  American  girl 
was  as  completely  in  the  spirit  of  the  French  sport  as  if 
she  had  been  born  a  Parisienne.  Stout  old  women  with 
their  families  ;  padded  and  painted  old  men  with  mon 
ocles  ;  women  of  the  little  world  in  couples  and  with 
cavaliers  ;  American  tourists  with  their  Baedekers  ; 
pale  young  Frenchmen  on  the  alert  for  something  new  ; 
spruce  negro  men  with  white  cocottes ;  gayly  dressed 
negresses  driven  by  white  coachmen  ;  beautiful  French 
women  who  drove  simply  to  see  and  only  bowed  when  a 
flower  fell  into  their  carriages  ;  enamelled  old  women 
in  lace  hats  and  pink  parasols,  with  wheezy  poodles — 
all  Paris,  in  fact  !  Up  and  down  they  drove  and  looked 
and  guessed  and  gossiped,  and  flung  their  innocent 
flowers  at  each  other  with  many  a  gay  compliment  and 
malicious  sotto  voce. 

Rose  saw  almost  nothing  of  the  sensation  she  was 
creating,  but  the  Frenchman  at  her  side  smiled  at  her 
enthusiasm  and  bit  his  lips  to  hide  their  twitching  wrhen 
the  shrugs  and  stares  of  his  world  met  his  eye.  They 
drove  for  two  hours,  and  in  that  time  the  American  girl 
had  lost,  by  an  innocent  American  custom,  wrhat  she 
never  could  regain  in  the  eyes  of  Paris  society. 

Although  glancing  furtively  about,  peering  on  each 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

side,  lest  any  of  the  sweetness  of  his  revenge  should  be 
lost  to  him,  Raoul  failed  to  see  one  man — one  American 
who  was  standing  near  the  entrance  as  they  drove  out, 
and  who  saw  the  Frenchman's  shrug  in  answer  to  a 
woman's  raised  eyebrows. 

"  Encore  une  demi-vierge !"  murmured  the  woman  in 
the  victoria,  with  a  sneer. 

Townshend  understood. 

An  hour  later,  while  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  was 
laughing  over  his  coup  de  malice  with  a  dozen  of  his 
friends,  the  American  strode  into  the  Jockey  Club,  his 
face  a  dull  red  and  his  gray  eyes  blazing  with  murder. 
He  brushed  aside  the  little  Frenchmen  in  his  path  like 
so  many  noisome  flies.  D'Auteuil  saw  him  coming 
and  rose  to  his  feet. 

Townshend  approached  the  group  in  utter  silence, 
and  when  he  was  near  enough  he  struck  one  fierce 
blow  with  his  clenched  fist  and  knocked  the  mar 
quis  quite  ten  feet  away.  For  a  moment  no  one  spoke. 
Then  the  clatter  and  hissing  of  the  French  tongue  began 
and  rose  in  volume,  until  it  was  Babel.  The  French 
man  was  assisted  to  his  feet,  and  when  he  could  stand 
Townshend  reached  out  before  any  one  could  stop  him 
and  knocked  him  down  again,  quite  senseless  this  time. 

Fifty  voices  demanded  an  explanation,  but  with  the 
one  sentence  : 

"  M.  le  Marquis  will  explain  !"  Townshend  turned  on 
his  heel  and  left  the  Jockey  Club. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ON  Sunday  morning  early  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil 
sent  for  his  friends,  the  Comte  d'Arcy,  the  Comte  de 
Rouen,  and  the  Due  de  Treves. 

The  first  two  came  at  once.  The  third  still  could  not 
be  found. 

Raoul  sat  up  in  bed  when  his  friends  entered,  and 
they  flung  up  their  hands  in  amazement  at  the  sight  of 
his  eye.  The  flesh  was  green  and  purple  down  to  his 
jawbone. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  what  a  blow  the  American  ox  has  dealt 
you  !  You  will  not  be  fit  to  be  seen  for  three  weeks  !" 
cried  d'Arcy. 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  manicure  is  coming  at 
twelve,  and  I  must  see  her.  She  could  not  come  yester 
day,  and  my  hands  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  any  long 
er.  She  is  so  very  pretty — she  must  not  see  me  like 
this  !  What  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  Shall  you  challenge  the  American  ?"  asked  the 
Comte  de  Rouen. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  answered  Raoul,  fretfully,  flinging 
himself  back  upon  the  ruffled  pillows.  "  What  do  you 
advise  ?" 

"  Of  course  you  would  not  lose  in  the  eyes  of  those  of 
us  who  know  you  as  a  brave  man,  if  you  should  ignore 
the  American  pig,  and  consider  the  whole  matter  be 
neath  contempt.  But  there  were  others  —  visitors  at 
the  club  —  who  saw  and  will  criticise.  The  Russian 
Ambassador,  Prince  Orloff,  and  the  Austrian  military 

222 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

attache  were  there.     Also  Sir  Arthur  Carteret  and  sev 
eral  other  foreigners." 

"  All  those  were  there  ?  And  they  saw  ?"  asked  the 
marquis,  sitting  up  again.  "  Then  there  is  but  one 
thing  to  do,  and  that  is  to  challenge  him  !" 

"  Let  us  hope  that  he  will  choose  swords,  then,  for  I 
have  heard  that  he  is  one  of  those  trick  shots — the  sort 
of  a  fellow  who  can  put  a  hole  through  a  half-franc 
piece,  or  shoot  the  point  from  a  lead-pencil !"  said  Rouen, 
cheerfully. 

"  Will  you  two  be  my  friends  ?"  asked  Raoul,  ner 
vously. 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Rouen.  "  I  will  draw  up  the 
challenge  at  once." 

D'Arcy  approached  the  bed,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Are  you  going  to  Madame  de  Briancourt's  this  after 
noon  ?" 

"  No  1"  cried  Raoul,  sharply.  "  How  can  I,  with  this 
eye  ?" 

"  There  you  are  wrong,  my  friend.  I  went  to  Ma 
dame  de  Treves's  and  Madame  de  Fleury's,  and  1  was 
handsomely  received.  All  Paris  will  shrug  the  shoul 
ders  if  you  do  not  go.  As  for  the  eye,  I  know  a  man 
who  paints  such  discolorations  so  that  no  one  would 
suspect.  You  must  go  late,  just  before  the  candles 
are  lighted,  when  there  will  be  the  greatest  crowd,  and 
remain  but  for  a  moment.  Believe  me,  I,  your  friend, 
tell  you  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do." 

"  Then,  if  there  is  such  a  person,  why  may  I  not  send 
for  him  before  the  little  manicure  comes  ?"  said  Raoul, 
eagerly. 

"  You  may.  I  will  fetch  him  at  once.  He  lives  close 
by.  But  stay  !  Let  us  first  discover  the  whereabouts 
of  madame  your  mother.  If  she  sees  us,  or  hears  about 
last  night,  we  are  undone.  Women  are  not  friendly  to 
duelling." 

223 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Raoul  rang  for  his  man. 

"  Where  are  my  mother  and  sister  ?"  he  asked.  "  Are 
they  at  mass  ?" 

"  No,  M.  le  Marquis.  They  went  to  Vrianault  last 
night  by  the  evening  train.  You  will  remember  that 
to-day  is  the  anniversary  of  your  noble  father's  death." 

A  greenish  pallor  overspread  Raoul's  face  at  this  more 
than  unwelcome  news.  It  was  their  first  visit  to  Vria 
nault  since  he  had  sold  the  tapestries.  Before  they  dis 
covered  their  loss,  he  had  hoped  to  make  their  re-pur 
chase  possible  by  his  engagement  to  Maria.  His  life 
was  ruined  !  And  he  owed  it  all  to  Rose  !  Even  the 
pain  in  his  eye  !  Ah  !  he  was  not  fully  avenged  upon 
her  yet.  He  believed  that  Townshend  was  her  accepted 
lover,  and  he  would  kill  the  American. 

"  My  poor  friend  !"  cried  Rouen,  springing  to  the  bed 
side.  "  What  is  there  in  that  news  to  disturb  you  so  ? 
The  expression  of  your  face  is  quite  frightful  !" 

"  It  is  nothing  !"  said  Raoul,  loosening  the  collar  to 
the  jacket  of  his  pink  silk  pyjamas.  "  I  only  wish  you 
to  hasten  with  the  challenge.  When  I  think  of  his  blow 
and  the  pain  I  suffer  I  choke  with  rage.  I  wish  to  kill 
the  American  !  The  sooner  the  better !" 

"  Take  care  that  he  does  not  kill  you  !  He  does  not 
understand  the  code.  See  that  you  shoot  before  he  has 
time  to  aim  properly." 

Presently  d'Arcy  came  hurrying  in  with  the  little 
hair-dresser  on  the  corner,  in  whose  shop  Maria  had 
waited  the  day  before.  He  was  delighted  with  his  task, 
and  in  an  hour,  unless  a  strong  light  fell  upon  Raoul's 
face,  one  would  not  have  known  that  anything  had  hap 
pened.  The  swelling  had  all  but  disappeared  under  the 
poultices  which  his  valet  had  applied  so  faithfully  dur 
ing  the  night,  and  there  remained  only  the  bloodshot 
eye,  which,  as  the  little  hair-dresser  explained,  might 
have  come  from  a  cold,  or  too  much  wine  the  night  before. 

224 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  And  now,"  said  d'Arcy,  cheerfully,  "  Rouen  and  I 
will  wait  upon  the  American  and  give  him  one  grand 
fright  with  a  French  challenge.  I  dare  say  he  never 
fought  a  duel  in  his  life.  In  the  mean  time,  amuse  your 
self  well  with  your  little  manicure.  I  will  wager  Lili  is 
not  alone  !" 

"  I  think  that  you  are  mistaken  in  what  you  say,"  said 
Raoul,  turning  upon  his  friend  hastily.  "  Lili  is  at 
home,  alone  and  ill.  Even  I  am  not  to  visit  her  until  to 
morrow  !" 

"  Ah,  indeed !  Well,  I  retract  my  words.  Au  re- 
voir  !  We  shall  return  at  four  with  the  American's  re 
ply.  I  fancy  he  will  not  pass  a  very  tranquil  evening  !" 

As  they  left  the  hotel  the  two  men  turned  and  looked 
at  each  other. 

"  At  home  and  ill !  The  little  cat  !  If  Raoul  ever 
learns  the  truth  he  will  have  a  second  duel  on  his 
hands." 

*  How  did  you  discover  it  ?"  asked  Rouen. 

"  The  hair  -  dresser  told  me,  as  we  walked  along. 
Raoul' s  little  manicure  is  his  niece,  and  she  saw  them 
at  the  Gare  St.  Lazare." 

"  It  is  very  unwise  of  Treves,"  said  Rouen. 

"  I  think  it  is  most  amusing  !  What  spirit  the  little 
monkey  shows  !  I  congratulate  Treves  with  all  my 
heart  !" 

"  What  a  farce  it  is  !  Lili  and  Raoul  each  fancying 
the  other  true,  while  each  amuses  himself  with  some 
one  else!" 

"  And  all  the  time  loving  each  other  with  true  and 
sincere  devotion  !" 

"  You  think  so  ?" 

"  Ah,  I  know  it !     Raoul's  marriage  is  at  the  bottom 

of  Lili's  affair  with  Treves.     Treves  has  pursued  her 

fruitlessly  for  two  years,  but  she  never  would  look  at 

him.    Now  she  has  begun  so  daringly,  I  think  she  wishes 

p  225 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

to  bring  on  a  duel,  hoping  either  to  break  off  the  mar 
riage  by  the  publicity  of  it,  or  that  Raoul  will  be  killed  !" 

*  Raoul  killed  ?  Ah  !  but  you  do  think  that  she 
loves  him,  then  !  I  had  not  believed  it  so  serious." 

"  We  have  not  come  to  the  end  of  this  matter,  my 
friend.  I  assure  you,  I  am  not  an  alarmist,  but  I  take 
a  grave  view." 

In  less  than  an  hour  after  Rouen  and  d'Arcy  had  left 
Raoul,  the  little  manicure  staggered  into  her  uncle's 
shop,  her  face  all  swollen  and  bleeding  and  her  eyes 
streaming  with  tears. 

Rushing  through  the  shop  to  avoid  the  curious  gaze 
of  her  uncle's  customers,  the  girl  slammed  the  door 
of  the  inner  room  and  screamed  out  the  story  of  her  ill- 
treatment.  Her  aunt  and  uncle  listened  with  combs 
suspended  in  the  air. 

"  I  told  him  about  Lili  and  the  Due  de  Treves,  and  he 
threw  his  hand-mirror  at  me  and  pushed  me  out  of  the 
room  with  such  violence  that  I  fell  down  the  stairs  !" 

"  You  dared  to  tell  him  about  the  due  !"  cried  her  aunt, 
seizing  her  by  the  shoulder  and  shaking  her.  "  You 
little  fool  !  It  is  a  miracle  that  he  did  not  break  your 
neck  !  How  dared  you  !  Mon  Dieu !  I  would  as 
soon  have  thought  of  exploding  dynamite  !" 

"  He  shall  not  have  us  both  !"  cried  the  girl.  "  He  has 
told  me  that  he  loves  me  only,  and  I  have  believed  him. 
Then  Madame  Clemence  told  my  mother  about  Lili,  and 
I  taxed  him  with  it,  and  he  dared  not  deny  it.  He  only 
laughed  and  said  I  was  a  little  country  mouse  and  must 
not  visit  the  city  mouse,  and  that  made  me  so  jealous 
and  so  angry  that  I  laughed  in  his  face  and  told  him 
that  the  country  mouse  knew  where  the  city  mouse  was 
at  that  moment,  and  that  was  at  the  Hotel  Henri  IV.  at 
St.  Germain  with  his  dear  friend  the  Due  de  Treves,  be 
cause  I  saw  them  get  on  the  train  together  yesterday  ! 
Oh,  how  my  face  hurts  !" 

226 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  girl  broke  off  in  a  torrent  of  tears. 

"  Well,  well,  but  go  on  !"  cried  her  aunt,  impatiently. 

"Ah !  if  you  only  knew  how  he  has  made  love  to  mel" 
sobbed  the  girl.  "  It  is  impossible  that  he  should  love 
us  both." 

"  It  is  not  at  all  impossible,"  said  her  aunt,  roughly. 
"  Men  like  the  marquis  can  love  a  dozen  like  you.  1 
have  warned  you  too  often  to  have  any  patience  with 
you  now.  Hold  up  your  head  !  You  have  probably 
brought  on  a  duel,  and  your  fortune  may  be  made  !" 

"  I  do  not  want  it  to  be  made  !"  wailed  the  poor  child, 
flinging  herself  on  the  bed  in  bitter  sobbing.  "As  if  I 
could  look  at  any  other  man  after  the  marquis  1  If  I 
have  made  him  fight  a  duel  for  that  other — that  cat,  Lili 
—1  shall  kill  myself  !" 

"No,  no,  my  pretty  pet !"  said  her  uncle,  soothingly. 
"  Don't  cry  so.  Turn  your  face  to  the  light  and  let  me 
bathe  it  with  this  healing  balm.  Oh,  the  poor  cheek  ! 
See,  how  good  and  cool  that  feels !  Man  Dieu !  wife, 
go  and  attend  to  our  customer.  He  is  roaring  like  a 
hyena  !  There  now,  little  one.  I  will  draw  the  curtain 
and  you  must  try  to  sleep." 


When  the  Comte  de  Rouen  returned  at  four  o'clock 
with  Townshend's  acceptance  of  the  Marquis's  chal 
lenge,  Rouen  narrowly  watched  his  friend's  face  as  he 
mentioned  the  American's  seconds. 

"  Sir  Arthur  Carteret  and— the  Due  de  Treves  !" 
"  The  Due  de  Treves  !"  exclaimed  Raoul,  starting. 
"  Certainly  !     Why  do  you  seem  so  disturbed  by  it  ?" 
"  It  is  nothing, "answered  the  marquis,  recovering  him 
self.     "  Only  it  seems  as  odd  to  hear  of  Treves  being  the 
second  of  my  adversary  as  if  you  or  d'Arcy  should  be." 
"  But  no.     Treves  is  a  very  great  friend  of  the  Ameri 
can.     He  borrows  money  of  him !" 

227 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Ah!  I  wondered  why  it  was !"  said  Raoul,  nodding 
his  head.  "  Where  did  they  find  Treves  ?  I  sent  for 
him  yesterday  from  the  club,  and  again  this  morning, 
but  he  could  not  be  found." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Rouen,  discreetly  drop 
ping  his  eyes  under  Raoul' s  searching  gaze.  "  He 
called  upon  Sir  Arthur  in  answer  to  a  note  he  sent  as 
soon  as  the  challenge  was  received." 

"  How  did  the  American  pig  deport  himself  ?"  asked 
Raoul,  eagerly.  "  Was  he  frightened  ?  Did  he  turn 
pale  ?  It  is  one  thing  to  knock  down  a  man  who  is  not 
looking  for  a  blow  and  therefore  cannot  defend  himself, 
and  it  is  another  to  bare  one's  breast  to  a  sword  when 
both  are  prepared." 

"  He  displayed  admirable  nerve  and  no  little  knowledge 
of  a  gentleman's  part  in  a  duel.  But,  for  your  sake,  I 
regret  to  say  that  he  has  chosen  pistols.  Are  you  a 
good  shot  ?" 

"  None  better  !"  said  the  marquis,  haughtily.  His 
vanity  resented  his  friend's  choice  of  words. 

"  Good  !  I  am  content.  You  will  see  that  the  place 
chosen  is  Chalons-sur-Marne.  It  was  Victor  de  Treves's 
idea.  All  the  troops  are  ordered  to  a  place  two  miles  out 
of  Chalons  for  the  manoeuvres,  so  that  the  spot  he  has 
selected  will  be  quite  deserted.  The  time  chosen  is 
Tuesday  at  five  o'clock,  if  it  is  fair.  If  not,  Wednesday 
morning  at  sunrise." 

"  Admirable  !"  said  Raoul,  pressing  his  friend's  hands. 
"  How  can  I  thank  you  ?" 

"  By  saying  nothing  about  it.  D' Arcy  and  Sir  Arthur 
are  selecting  the  doctors  and  the  referee,  whom  I  think 
will  be  the  old  Due  de  Fleury,  as  he  boasts  of  nineteen 
duels.  As  for  myself,  I  go  to  call  upon  my  mother,  and 
in  an  hour  d'Arcy  and  I  will  come  for  you  on  our  way 
to  Madame  de  Briancourt's.  Shall  your  American  girl 
be  there,  do  you  think  ?" 

228 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Certainly  not !     How  could  she,  when  she  knows  no 

one?" 


But  Rose  Hollenden  was  at  that  very  moment  making 
her  way  to  the  chair  of  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt,  who 
sat  on  a  raised  dais,  with  her  crutches  beside  her. 

The  Baronne  Valencia  was  ahead  and  reached  out 
her  hand  for  Rose  to  present  her,  but  Maria  pushed  for 
ward  and  said  : 

"  I  should  be  presented  first,  Madame  Valencia,  if  you 
please  !" 

Rose  colored  and  drew  back,  fearing  that  she  had 
seemed  aggressive,  but  the  duchesse,  after  surveying 
Maria  for  an  instant  through  her  lorgnon,  held  out  her 
hand  to  Rose,  saying  in  English  : 

"  And  is  this  your  beautiful  American  Rose,  my  dear 
baronne  ?  Ah,  my  child,  you  have  in  your  country  a 
wonderful  flower  called  the  American  Beauty  Rose. 
1  think  it  must  have  been  named  after  one  look  into 
your  face." 

Maria  reared  her  crest  like  an  angry  serpent,  and 
turned  away  with  ill-disguised  fury.  It  was  too  humili 
ating  !  To  think,  after  all  these  years  of  waiting  to  be 
introduced  into  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  that  she 
should  be  so  rudely  ignored  and  that  big,  awkward 
American  so  nauseatingly  flattered  ! 

The  baronne  was  delighted  at  the  little  contretemps. 
And  she  stood  and  guarded  Rose  from  her  sister's  venom 
until  the  two  young  French  girls,  Francine  and  Lulu  de 
Fleury,  came  up  and  bore  Rose  away. 

"  You  must  meet  maman  !  It  will  be  quite  a  triumph 
for  us  !"  declared  Francine. 

"  You  will  never  know  how  impatient  we  were  to  see 
you  !"  cried  Lulu.  "  How  we  poor  French  girls  do  long 
for  your  American  freedom  !  And  oh,  my  word  !  what 

229 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

good  use  you  do  make  of  yours !  We  have  screamed  with 
joy  over  some  of  the  things  you  have  done  since  you 
have  been  here  !  And  what  a  beauty  you  are  1  No 
doubt  you  will  quite  cut  us  out,  but  we  are  going  to  take 
you  on  !" 

"  Why,  where  did  you  learn  suchEnglish?"  asked  Rose. 

"  Oh,  we  have  learned  it  ourselves.  We  had  an  Eng 
lish  maid  last  year,  and  now  we  come  into  town  twice  a 
week  to  take  lessons  of  the  handsomest  Englishman 
you  ever  saw.  Maman  would  be  quite  crazy  if  she  knew. 
Don't  you  think  we  are  clever  ?  Maman  hates  the  Eng 
lish  and  Americans  so  that  she  can  hardly  breathe. 
Oh,  it  will  be  too  delicious  to  present  you  to  her  !" 

"  But — "  said  Rose,  protestingly. 

"  Here  she  is  !  Maman,  this  is  the  young  American 
girl,  Mademoiselle  Hollenden  —  Rose  Hollenden.  She 
speaks  beautiful  French.  See,  isn't  she  a  beauty  ?" 

"Ah,  of  course  she  is  an  American  !"  said  the  duchesse, 
surveying  Rose  scornfully  from  head  to  foot.  "  No  one 
but  an  English  or  an  American  woman  would  wear  such 
a  hat  !" 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  my  hat  ?"  asked  Rose, 
wondering,  as  she  had  been  obliged  to  do  scores  of  times 
before,  where  the  French  politeness  was,  of  which  she 
had  heard  so  much  all  her  life.  She  put  her  hand  up  to 
feel  if  anything  were  wrong.  The  hat  was  a  fine,  trans 
parent  straw,  covered  with  white  ostrich  plumes,  and  it 
was  one  of  those  large,  graceful  hats  which  only  Ameri 
can  women  can  wear  with  dignity. 

"  It  is  too  big,"  said  the  duchesse.  "  No  French  face 
could  stand  it.  Besides,  we  would  not  consider  it  good 
taste.  But  it  does  well  enough  for  an  English  girl." 

Shirley  saw  Rose's  signal  of  distress  and  took  a  step 
nearer.  He  feared  she  was  losing  her  nerve.  Besides 
that,  he  was  aroused  in  an  instant  by  any  criticism  of 
one  of  Miss  Schermerhorn's  hats. 

230 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  But,  maman,  Mademoiselle  Hollenden  is  an  Ameri 
can.  There  is  the  greatest  difference  !  Pray  try  to 
remember  !" 

"  English  or  American — it  is  all  the  same  !"  said  the 
duchesse,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "  1  can't  tell  them 
apart." 

Shirley's  fine,  thin  whistle  reached  his  sister's  ear 
alone.  It  was  a  few  bars  of  "All  Coons  Look  Alike  to 
Me  !"  And  it  saved  her.  She  recovered  herself  and 
listened  with  admirable  coolness  to  the  old  French 
woman's  rudeness. 

"  1  am  told  that  you  come  from  the  South,"  she  said. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Rose.  "  My  grandmother  was  a 
Southern  woman." 

"  But  they  are  so  dirty,  generally.  I  dare  say  your 
grandmother  was  clean — of  course,  yes.  But  I  knew 
some  people  once  who  came  from  Brazil,  and  they  were 
very  dirty." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  mean  South  America  when  I  say  the 
South !  I  mean  the  southern  part  of  the  United  States. 
We  never  call  anybody  Americans  except  those  who 
come  from  the  United  States.  The  others  are  South 
Americans,  or  Canadians,  or  Mexicans,"  said  Rose, 
eagerly. 

The  duchesse  waved  her  off. 

"  It  is  of  no  use.  1  am  not  interested,  and  I  shall  not 
even  try  to  remember." 

The  young  American  girl  stiffened  and  took  a  step 
away  from  the  old  Frenchwoman. 

"  What  are  you  running  away  for  ?  You  are  very 
pretty.  1  like  to  look  at  you.  You  are  the  first  Ameri 
can  I  ever  saw  !" 

Lulu  and  Francine  nudged  each  other  delightedly. 

"  Really  I  cannot  stop  longer,"  said  Rose,  coloring 
with  annoyance. 

"  Come  with  us,"  whispered  Francine.  "  People  are 

231 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

staring  at  you  so.  They  think  you  are  beautiful,  but 
of  course  it  is  mostly  about  yesterday.  You  will  be  sur 
rounded  in  an  instant,  if  you  don't  hasten." 

They  hurried  her  through  the  beautiful  house,  which 
was  beautiful  even  for  Paris,  and  took  her  into  the  gar 
den,  placing  themselves  before  her  like  carved  lions  at 
a  gate. 

"  Now  do  tell  us  about  your  affair  with  the  Marquis 
d'Auteuil  !  And  how  did  you  ever  dare  1  A  man  with 
his  reputation  !  Not  worse  than  Victor  de  Treves,  to 
be  sure,  or  my  little  Rouen,  or  Lulu's  d'Arcy — all  wretch 
ed  little  creatures  when  compared  with  your  lovely 
brother  or  that  handsome  Mr.  Townshend.  But  will  you 
ask  us  to  stop  with  you  some  night  ?  And  then  when 
everybody  has  gone  to  bed,  we  will  get  out  of  the  window 
and  see  Paris  !  What  fun  it  will  be  !  Lulu  and  I  will 
be  obliged  to  mask,  but  you  needn't.  People  would 
simply  shrug  and  say  '  Oh,  it  is  only  the  American 
girl !'  ' 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  gasped  Rose.  "  Get  out 
of  the  window  and  see  Paris  at  night,  alone  ?" 

"  Of  course  !     With  three  of  us  it  would  be  quite  safe." 

"  But  I  would  be  afraid.  I  will  ask  Shirley  to  take 
us,  or  Mr.  Townshend." 

"  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  you  don't  understand  !  We  mean 
to  go  to  places  where  ladies  cannot  go.  We  mean  to 
have  the  freedom  that  young  American  girls  have  in 
your  country.  For  example,  there  is  the  Bal  des  Qua- 
tres  Arts.  It  is  one  of  the  most  indecent  things  in  Paris. 
Students  and  their  mistresses  and  the  wickedest  models 
in  town  go  there.  The  women  wear  almost  no  clothes, 
and  run  up  and  down  quite  nude,  and  the  men  throw 
champagne  on  them — " 

"  Stop  !"  cried  Rose,  starting  to  her  feet  with  a  crim 
son  face.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  would  look 
upon  such  indecency  even  if  it  were  permitted?  And 

232 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

you  dare  to  ask  me  to  go  with  you  !  Oh,  it  is  too  horri 
ble  to  think  about!" 

The  two  young  French  girls  looked  at  each  other  in 
perplexity.  What  was  this  American  so  hot  about  ? 

"  But,"  said  Lulu,  "  have  you  no  curiosity  about  such 
things  ?  Or  does  your  American  freedom  permit  you 
to  satisfy  it  in  another  way  ?" 

They  both  laughed  out  merrily  at  this,  but  Rose 
stared  at  them  uncomprehendingly. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  "  of  what  do  you  imagine  our 
American  freedom  consists  ?" 

"  Why,  of  doing  everything  that  a  young  girl  could 
wish." 

"  Well,"  said  Rose,  hesitating  and  thinking,  in  order 
to  be  quite  accurate,  "  that  is  quite  true." 

"  Very  well,  then  !"  cried  both  French  girls  trium 
phantly.  "  In  America  you  would  be  permitted,  then, 
to  go  to  the  Bal  des  Quatres  Arts  !  One  night  at  that 
ball,  and  there  would  be  nothing  left  for  us  to  learn. 
We  should  have  seen  it  all  with  our  own  eyes  !" 

Rose  looked  from  one  to  the  other  speechless  and 
unable  to  think  what  to  say  first.  There  was  the  work 
of  a  lifetime  before  her  if  she  were  to  undertake  to  make 
them  understand.  These  simple-minded  little  French 
girls,  dressed  in  white  muslin,  both  under  twenty  years 
of  age,  and  daughters  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  best  houses 
in  France  ! 

"  The  chief  difference  between  your  country  and  ours," 
pursued  Francine,  "  is  that  the  things  your  young  girls 
wish  to  do  are  permitted,  and  in  ours  we  must  escape 
surveillance  and  do  them  on  the  sly.  You  are  allowed 
to  be  hugged  and  kissed  by  your  young  men  all  you 
wish.  What  do  you  think  ?  Neither  one  of  us  was 
ever  kissed  until  a  year  ago  !  Isn't  that  a  shame  ?" 

"  How  did  you  begin  ?"  asked  Rose. 

*  At  Dinard.  We  love  Dinard,  because  there  are  so 

233 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

many  English  and  Americans  there,  and  they  are  up  to 
any  larks.  But  I  must  say  your  Americans  are  a  little 
slow.  They  are  quite  satisfied  with  a  few  kisses.  They 
are  not  like  Europeans  !  No  !  Still,  we  like  them. 
They  are  so  awfully  chivalrous.  We  put  on  boys' 
clothes,  and  got  out  of  the  windows  to  go  to  meet  them, 
and  the  watchman  saw  us  in  the  garden  and  told  ma- 
man.  And  what  do  you  think  those  Americans  did  ? 
They  said  it  was  they  the  watchman  saw,  and  they  stuck 
to  it  until  maman  believed  it.  She  scolded  them  ter 
ribly  for  being  there,  but  they  said  they  had  come  to 
pay  a  visit  to  her,  and  were  quite  shocked  to  discover 
that  she  closed  the  house  so  early.  That  was  a  grind 
on  her,  for  she  sleeps  half  the  day  in  addition." 

*  It's  a  good  thing  for  us  that  she  does,"  said  her  sis 
ter,  poutingly.  "  She  wakes  up  when  we  least  expect 
it,  as  it  is,  and  has  all  but  caught  us  heaps  of  times." 

"  Tell  us,"  urged  Lulu,  "  will  you  go  with  us  to  the 
ball  ?" 

"  No,  a  thousand  times  no  \"  cried  Rose.  "  If  you 
took  me  there  by  force  1  would  close  my  eyes  !" 

"  And  not  look  ?"  cried  both  French  girls  at  once. 

"  Certainly  not !" 

The  two  young  girls  looked  at  each  other,  nodding 
their  heads. 

"  It  is  quite  true,  then,  what  Madame  Blanc  says. 
We  have  read  her  books  and  heard  her  talk.  She  said 
that  American  women  were  too  perfect !" 

"  You  have  no  temperament !"  cried  Francine,  deri 
sively. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Rose,  coolly.  "  But  at  least  I  am 
not  nasty." 

"  Do  you  call  us  nasty  ?"  asked  Lulu,  without  a  trace 
of  anger. 

"  I  call  you  the  vilest-minded  girls  1  ever  met,"  said 
Rose.  "  1  never  even  think  of  the  things  you  have  sug- 

234 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

gested  to-day.  You  insult  me  when  you  think  me  ca 
pable  of  it." 

The  amazement  of  the  young  French  girls  was  quite 
sincere. 

"  Then  of  what  does  your  American  freedom  consist  ?" 
asked  Lulu. 

"  As  if  1  could  ever  explain  to  you  !"  cried  Rose,  start 
ing  up  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  You  make  my  heart 
ache  with  the  utter  decadence  of  your  point  of  view  !" 

"  Don't  get  angry,"  said  Francine.  They  each  took 
her  arm  and  strolled  over  towards  the  fountain  which 
played  in  the  centre  of  the  great  garden.  White  marble 
statues  were  placed  about,  and  the  landscape  gardener 
had  done  his  best  to  make  a  beautiful  setting  for  the 
grand  old  house. 

Rose  gazed  about  her  in  admiration.  She  was  pas 
sionately  fond  of  sculpture,  form  appealing  to  her  more 
than  color.  But  it  was  the  Greek  she  loved,  without 
knowing  why.  Its  purity  appealed  to  the  very  highest 
in  her  earnest  young  nature.  The  Roman  was  frankly 
voluptuous,  but  the  French  was  worse.  It  was  sug 
gestive.  The  minds  of  the  sculptors  were  stamped 
upon  the  marble  faces  of  their  statues,  and  Rose  felt  the 
taint  in  her  soul.  How  differently,  if  she  had  had  the 
choosing,  would  she  have  peopled  this  magnificent  old 
garden  with  marble  figures  !  But  as  she  looked  into  the 
faces  of  the  painted  and  enamelled  pygmies  who  strolled 
along  the  gravelled  paths  and  breathed  the  scented  air, 
she  realized  how  sadly  out  of  place  her  pure-browed 
Hermes  and  her  virgin  Diana  would  be  at  a  Paris  garden- 
party. 

In  their  promenade  the  three  young  girls  came  upon 
two  sedan-chairs  facing  each  other.  As  they  approached, 
one  old  woman  put  her  head  out  and  beckoned  to  them. 

"  Come,"  said  Lulu.  "  It  is  our  great-aunt  playing  at 
b£zique  with  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt's  mother.  One 

235 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

is  eighty-seven  and  the  other  is  ninety-three.  Great- 
aunt  was  such  a  beauty  in  her  time  that  she  does  not 
even  yet  realize  that  she  is  old." 

Both  old  ladies  laid  down  their  cards  at  the  young 
girl's  approach. 

"  Is  this  your  American  girl  ?"  asked  the  Princesse 
d'Annuncio,  Francine's  great-aunt. 

Rose  bit  her  lip.  She  was  being  called  "  the  Ameri 
can  girl  "  so  often  it  had  got  to  sounding  in  her  ear  as  if 
she  were  an  educated  pig  that  all  were  anxious  to  see  put 
through  his  tricks.  But  she  soon  forgot  the  scrutiny 
of  the  old  lady  in  her  wonder  at  the  youthful  appearance 
of  these  grandmothers. 

The  Princesse  d'Annuncio  was  dressed  in  pale-blue 
embroidered  silk,  with  ruffles  of  white  chiffon.  Her  wig 
was  blond  and  dressed  in  the  latest  fashion.  Her  eye 
brows  were  painted  on  with  exquisite  care,  her  cheeks 
enamelled,  and  her  lips  rouged.  A  jaunty  tulle  toque 
with  blue  forget-me-nots  for  garniture  had  tulle  ties 
finishing  in  a  smart  bow  under  her  chin,  hiding  the  hide 
ous  bagginess  of  her  yellow  neck.  Black  silk  mitts 
covered  the  swollen  veins  and  wrinkles  of  her  poor,  rheu 
matic  old  hands,  whose  fingers  blazed  with  rings.  The 
other  old  woman,  the  Marquise  d'Albret,  was  done 
similarly  in  red.  Rose  found  the  old  women  of  Paris 
most  wonderful.  What  vitality  !  What  spirit  !  W^hat 
a  grasp  on  the  fashions  and  affairs  of  the  day  ! 

"  She  speaks  marvellous  French  for  an  American  \" 
said  the  princesse  to  her  companion. 

"  She  has  a  good  skin,"  said  the  marquise,  bluntly. 
"  Tell  me,  mademoiselle,  what  face-wash  do  you  use  ?" 

"  I  don't  use  any  !"  laughed  Rose. 

"  Fine  teeth,  too,"  murmured  the  princesse. 

Rose  closed  her  lips  and  pressed  them  into  a  fine  red 
line. 

"  Don't  do  that.  It  is  very  unbecoming,  and  it  makes 

236 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

wrinkles  to  laugh.  I  never  do  more  than  smile.  It  is 
easy  if  one  learns  how/'  said  the  princesse. 

"  She  is  very,  very  rich,  too,"  said  the  marquise,  quite 
as  if  Rose  did  not  understand.  Their  scant  courtesy 
stung  the  young  girl.  She  moved  uneasily. 

"  Come,"  said  Francine,  "  we  must  not  stop  longer. 
Mademoiselle  Hollenden  insisted  upon  seeing  you,  my 
great-aunt,  because  she  had  heard  of  your  beauty." 

The  old  woman  grunted  her  approval  of  Rose's  good 
taste,  and  as  they  turned  away  they  met  two  men, 
friends  of  Francine 's,  who  insisted  upon  being  presented 
to  the  American. 

"  Ah,"  said  one,  tapping  Rose's  skirts  with  his  stick, 
"  here  is  a  young  girl  who  is  willing  to  brave  the  opin 
ion  of  all  Paris  for  a  proper  view  of  the  Fete  des 
Fleurs  I" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  said  Rose,  haughtily,  draw 
ing  her  gown  back  from  his  familiarity. 

"  What  lips  for  kissing  !"  said  the  Comte  de  Blouet. 

Rose  turned  furiously  to  the  two  young  girls,  and 
found  them  smiling  maliciously.  She  felt  the  hostility 
all  about  her,  and  she  realized  that  she  need  expect  no 
help  from  her  companions.  She  must  rescue  herself. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  laying  her  strong  hand  on  Fran- 
cine's  arm  with  a  grip  of  steel.  "  Excuse  me  from  meet 
ing  any  more  of  your  friends,  and  let  us  find  the  Baronne 
Valencia  and  my  brother." 

Rose's  grasp  was  not  to  be  disobeyed,  and  the  French 
girls  took  her  to  her  chaperon. 

The  baronne  was  speaking  excitedly  to  a  large  group, 
who  fell  silent  at  Rose's  approach. 

"  Not  a  word  before  her,"  said  the  baronne,  laying  her 
finger  upon  her  lip.  She  called  Shirley  and  gave  Rose 
into  his  charge.  Then  she  sent  Townshend  and  the 
young  Due  de  Briancourt  to  talk  to  her  also,  with  in 
structions  to  let  no  one  else  approach,  and  thus,  sur- 

237 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

rounded  by  the  three  of  them,  Rose  slowly  followed  the 
baronne  into  the  house. 

The  baronne  was  much  disturbed.  She  had  just  been 
told  the  story  of  the  Fete  des  Fleurs  and  of  Townshend's 
swift  vengeance  at  the  Jockey  Club.  As  yet,  however, 
no  one  knew  of  the  duel,  as  the  Frenchmen  considered  a 
duel  with  an  American  nothing  to  be  proud  of.  The 
polite  disbelief  of  all  her  friends  when  she  declared  the 
American  girl's  innocence  resolved  her  upon  bold 
measures.  She  went  directly  to  the  chair  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Briancourt  and  whispered  the  whole  affair 
in  her  ear. 

"  Your  cousin,  then,  must  intend  to  marry  her,"  mur 
mured  the  duchesse. 

The  baronne  hesitated.  It  was  Sterling's  secret, 
but  Rose's  good  name  trembled  in  the  balance. 

"  He  loves  her,  certainly,  but  as  to  whether  he  can 
marry  her  or  not — that  is  for  her  to  say." 

The  duchesse  spread  out  her  hands,  as  one  who  hears 
but  does  not  understand. 

"  Your  cousin  risked  his  life  to  save  mine,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  avenge  your  American  Rose.  Call  her  to  me." 

"  Rose  !"  called  the  baronne,  lightly. 

Every  one  in  the  room  turned  to  listen. 

"  The  Duchesse  de  Briancourt  is  asking  for  you." 

The  American  girl  crossed  the  room,  followed  by  her 
three  men  whom  the  baronne  had  set  to  guard  her. 
Women  put  up  their  lorgnons  and  whispered.  Men 
stared. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  take  a  few  steps  through 
the  rooms  with  only  one  crutch.  Will  you  let  me  lean  on 
you,  my  dear  ?  I  would  trust  that  strong  young  arm  of 
yours  more  readily  than  that  of  any  Frenchman  I  know." 

A  gleam  of  malice  came  into  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful 
old  Frenchwoman.  A  ripple  ran  through  the  room,  as 
when  the  wind  blows  through  a  cornfield. 

238 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Lean  as  hard  as  ever  you  like,  dear  duchesse,"  said 
Rose.  "  I  am  very  strong." 

They  were  both  still  standing  on  the  dais,  just  about 
to  step  down,  when  the  old  butler  Charles  flung  open 
the  door  and  announced  : 

"  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Auteuil !  Monsieur  le  Comte 
de  Rouen  !  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Arcy  !" 

Rouen  and  d'Arcy,  fearing  that  something  would  hap 
pen,  did  not  enter  behind  their  friend,  as  Raoul  had  ex 
pected,  but  hastened  around  and  came  in  by  a  side  door. 
It  was  not  brave,  but  it  was  prudent. 

As  the  marquis  sprang  forward  with  outstretched 
hands,  the  old  Frenchwoman  straightened  herself  and 
clasped  Rose's  arm  more  tightly.  Raoul  perceived 
Rose  too  late  to  retreat. 

"  My  dear  Madame  de  Briancourt !"  cried  the  young 
man. 

"  Charles  !"  said  the  old  noblewoman,  holding  her 
beautiful  white  head  like  an  empress — "  Charles,  show 
this  gentleman  to  the  door  1" 

A  chorus  of  sibilant  exclamations  greeted  these  words. 
The  butler  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  But,  madame — duchesse — "  stammered  the  young 
man. 

"  The  door,  Charles  !" 

Raoul  drew  himself  up. 

"  I  am  at  a  loss,  madame,  to  understand  the  cause  of 
this  treatment  at  your  hands  !" 

"  Not  my  hands,  but  my  shoulders  bear  witness  to  the 
reason,  M.  le  Marquis  !"  answered  the  duchesse. 

Sympathetic  exclamations  of  horror  broke  from  all 
parts  of  the  room.  The  Marquis  d'Auteuil  was  hunted 
from  the  house  by  the  indignant  glances  of  his  best 
friends. 

The  duchesse  drew  Rose's  fresh  lips  down  to  her 
painted  ones  and  kissed  her  before  them  all. 

239 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  never  had  intended  to  mention  one  of  their 
names/'  she  murmured.  "  But  my  life  was  saved  by 
your  brave  countryman — and —  Ah,  my  child,  never 
say  that  all  the  old  blood  of  France  has  died  out !  Take 
me  to  my  boudoir.  I  tremble  with  fatigue." 

The  young  footman  who  assisted  Charles  made  a 
dash  for  the  kitchens. 

"  There  will  be  a  duel  between  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil 
and  our  young  due  1"  he  cried. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ON  Monday  morning  his  intimate  friends  were  almost 
hissing  the  name  of  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil.  The  news 
of  his  ignominious  dismissal  from  the  house  of  the  most 
powerful  leader  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  had  spread 
like  wildfire. 

Paris  is  a  curious  social  study.  Not  one  man  or  wom 
an  but  knew  that  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  had  been  one  of 
the  men  who  escaped  from  that  famous  window,  but 
they  knew  it  without  words,  by  lifted  eyebrows,  a  spread 
ing  out  of  the  hands,  or  a  shrug,  and  as  long  as  his  cow 
ardice  remained  nebulous  they  received  and  admired 
him.  The  moment  it  became  articulate  they  drew 
their  skirts  aside  in  sibilant  horror.  He  was  a  leper, 
and  no  one  recognized  that  fact  more  poignantly  than 
the  dainty,  thin-skinned  Frenchman  himself,  to  whom 
approval  from  his  world  of  fashion  was  the  breath  of 
life. 

In  the  morning  he  walked  in  the  boulevards  and  was 
cut  right  and  left.  No  one  saw  him.  He  went  home  a 
desperate  criminal,  ready  to  take  his  own  life,  or  to  give 
it  up  in  a  mad  thirst  for  the  lives  of  the  men  who  had 
brought  these  insults  upon  him.  He  sent  a  challenge 
to  the  Due  de  Treves,  and  accepted  the  one  from  the  Due 
de  Briancourt  with  savage  joy.  He  was  quite  drunk 
with  excitement.  He  made  his  will,  destroyed  all  his 
papers,  and  gave  himself  up  for  dead.  With  three  duels 
on  his  hands  he  felt  sure  that  he  was  doomed.  Then  his 
recklessness  settled  down  into  a  sort  of  pale  dignity—- 
Q  241 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  dignity  of  a  man  who  feels  that  the  shadow  of  death 
is  upon  him. 

Sir  Arthur  Carteret  and  Townshend  were  riding  in 
the  Bois  that  same  afternoon,  when  the  Marquis  d'Au- 
teuil  appeared,  sad,  silent,  and  dressed  entirely  in  black. 

"  Now  you  shall  see  for  yourself,"  said  Sir  Arthur.  "  I 
assure  you  I  never  saw  anything  so  cruel  as  the  way  his 
best  friends  treated  him  this  morning.  They  said  he 
had  disgraced  French  manhood  and  impugned  his  own 
honor.  They  deceive  themselves  so  successfully  that 
a  poor,  thick-headed  Englishman  is  almost  persuaded 
into  believing  them  sincere.  Their  indignation  was  so 
honest  and  so  complete,  it  was  hardly  possible  to  real 
ize  that  they  had  known  his  guilt  all  along." 

Scarcely  had  Sir  Arthur  finished  speaking  before  both 
men  were  arrested  by  the  spectacle  of  Raoul's  dog-cart 
being  stopped  by  little  knots  of  his  friends,  who  swarmed 
around  him  as  if  he  were  the  lion  of  a  levee,  congratulat 
ing  him  and  flattering  him  as  only  the  French  know 
how  to  flatter. 

"  Well,  by  the  Lord  Harry  !"  said  Townshend.  "  What 
do  you  make  of  that  ?" 

"  We  can't  stop  and  listen,"  said  Sir  Arthur.  "  How 
can  we  find  out  ?" 

"  Go  and  talk  to  some  woman,  and  ask  no  questions  \" 
said  the  American.  "  Then  she  will  tell  you  everything." 

They  chose  Mademoiselle  Francine  de  Fleury,  who 
was  taking  Mrs.  Sharp,  the  wife  of  the  American  Am 
bassador,  to  drive. 

"  Look  at  him  !"  she  cried,  as  they  rode  up.  "  The 
hero  of  three  duels  !  Quite  like  d'Artagnan  !  Oh,  it  is 
too  delicious  !  We  must  go  and  speak  with  him." 

As  the  young  French  girl,  who  had  been  left  to  die  in 
the  fire  by  this  same  man,  drove  away  to  congratulate 
him  on  the  glory  of  his  three  duels,  Townshend,  who 
was  helping  to  make  him  famous,  cut  his  pretty  mare 

24? 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

savagely  as  he  made  use  of  a  good,  honest,  American 
expletive. 

"  Well,  damn  these  Parisians  1"  he  said. 

"  Look  here,  Townshend,"  said  the  Englishman,  red 
dening,  "  it  isn't  a  very  polite  question,  but  I  only  ask 
it  for  your  own  good.  I  fear  treachery  in  this  duel. 
You  know  my  opinion  of  d'Arcy  and  Rouen.  Are  you 
as  good  a  shot  as  they  say  ?" 

The  American  brought  the  mare  down  to  a  walk. 

"  Would  you  think  I  was  boasting,"  he  said,  hesi 
tatingly,  "  if  I  say  that  I  am  willing  to  shoot  from  my 
pocket  ?" 

"  Without  aiming  ?"  asked  Sir  Arthur,  with  dropped 
jaw. 

Townshend  nodded. 

The  Englishman  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  kill  him  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  was  just  wondering,"  said  Townshend,  "  whether 
I  would  not  be  rendering  a  service  to  civilization  and 
the  cause  of  the  general  good,  by  wiping  him  from  the 
face  of  the  earth." 

Suddenly  he  paused,  remembering  the  many  contro 
versies  he  had  had  with  the  Hollendens  and  Sir  Arthur, 
in  which  he  had  enthusiastically  defended  the  French. 
Townshend  found  himself  looking  at  Paris  with  Rose's 
eyes,  seeing  for  the  first  time  how  continental  customs 
and  the  Gallic  code  of  honor  must  be  striking  the  young 
American  girl.  As  with  most  men,  love  was  making 
him  more  alive.  He  felt  more  keen,  more  sensitive  to 
impressions,  more  psychological.  The  woman's  point 
of  view  was  continually  coming  into  his  mental  vision, 
rendering  him  uncertain  of  himself,  less  assured. 
His  unconscious  masculine  finality  of  judgment  was 
being  shaken.  Things  which  heretofore  he  had  ac 
cepted  because  they  belonged  to  the  continental  es 
tablished  order,  in  whose  atmosphere  he  had  lived  so 

243 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

long,  he  began  to  question  and  to  discuss  with  himself. 
He  never  spoke  to  Rose  about  them,  but  he  was  realizing, 
as  others  of  his  countrymen  have  done  before  him  and 
will  do  again,  how  one  pair  of  fresh  American  eyes  on 
Europe  will  occasionally  make  the  most  habituated  ex 
patriate  sit  up. 

The  marquis's  extraordinary  popularity,  on  account 
of  his  three  duels,  produced  so  strong  a  revulsion  of  feel 
ing  in  Townshend  against  the  fickle  Paris  world,  that  he 
all  but  hated  them  for  the  very  superficiality  which  he 
had  so  often  laughed  at  and  defended  to  his  Anglo- 
Saxon  friends,  whose  sense  of  justice  had  been  jarred  by 
the  marvellous  thinness  of  the  French  national  character. 
But  it  is  a  different  matter  when  the  careless  onlooker 
turns  into  the  participant,  and  the  brutal  fickleness  of  the 
Gaul  is  directed  towards  one's  own  heart  and  soul. 

Not  being  theatrical,  not  having  blazoned  his  bravery 
to  the  world,  there  were  even  some  whose  lives  he  had 
helped  to  save  who  never  knew  positively  that  he  had 
rendered  them  any  assistance,  and  who  never  had 
spoken  to  him  about  it,  on  a  mere  rumor.  This  had 
caused  him  only  a  secret  grim  amusement  hitherto  ; 
but  now,  to  see  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil,  whose  con 
temptible  cowardice  everybody  knew,  placed  on  the 
pinnacle  of  admiration,  even  by  his  victims  themselves, 
roused  his  wrath  against  the  characters  of  his  French 
friends  as  it  never  had  been  roused  before. 

He  was  so  morose  going  down  in  the  train  to  Chalons 
that  Sir  Arthur  endeavored  to  cheer  him  by  light  gossip. 

"  They  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  that  d'Auteuil  had  those 
sweet  hands  of  his  manicured  the  last  thing  before  leav 
ing.  I  believe  he  is  vainer  of  those  little  white  hands 
of  his  than  any  woman.  It  is  curious  how  the  French 
adore  beauty  so." 

Townshend  roused  himself  and  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

244 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  It  is  going  to  be  fair,"  he  said.  "  I  believe  that  we 
can  fight  to-night." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  glad  to  have  it  over,"  sug 
gested  Sir  Arthur. 

"  It  will  give  me  a  more  tranquil  night's  sleep,"  said 
Townshend,  carelessly. 

The  Englishman  laughed. 

"  Then  you  can't  mean  to  kill  him,"  he  said. 

"  Why  can't  I  ?" 

"  Because  you  would  never  sleep  tranquilly  if  •  you 
had." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,  but  I  should  never 
consider  killing  a  rat  murder." 

"  Certainly  not  !  However,  at  the  risk  of  being  a 
nuisance  to  you,  1  am  going  to  warn  you  again  to  be  on 
your  guard  against  treachery.  Since  the  Due  de  Treves 
withdrew  from  being  your  second,  after  he  accepted 
d'Auteuil's  challenge,  I  have  felt  more  than  ever  that  it 
will  be  the  case  of  you  and  me  against  five  Frenchmen. 
Remember,  the  Due  de  Fleurj^,  unless  you  settle  things 
with  a  ball  first,  will  surely  favor  his  own  countryman. 
Briancourt  would  have  been  my  choice  of  a  second  in 
Treves's  place,  but  he  too,  being  obliged  to  attend  strictly 
to  his  own  affair,  almost  compelled  you  to  select  Gaspard 
de  Blouet.  But  he  it  was  who  said  to  Miss  Hollenden  : 
'  What  lips  for  kissing  !'  I  only  discovered  it  too  late. 
He  had  already  accepted  as  your  second." 

Townshend  sat  up. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  this  in  order  to  make  you  angry, 
but  just  to  assure  you  of  my  belief  that  an  Anglo-Saxon 
cannot  fight  with  a  Gaul,  as  they  would  fight  each 
other.  If  your  country  goes  to  war  with  Spain,  you  will 
see  what  I  mean.  They  will  disregard  the  honorable 
side  of  war,  and  you  will  feel  as  if  you  were  fighting 
with  Indians.  So  don't  trust  too  much  to  the  honor  of 
our  French  friends.  They  are  counting  on  your  igno- 

245 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ranee  of  professional  duelling,  and  —  well,  you  and  1 
wouldn't  call  their  methods  honorable." 

"  The  English  are  never  alarmists,"  said  Townshend, 
"  so  I  will  think  seriously  of  what  you  say.  You  mean 
that,  except  for  your  support,  I  shall  be  alone  ?" 

"  Quite." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  American. 

The  train  stopped  at  the  little  station  of  Chalons-sur- 
Marne,  and  Sir  Arthur's  man  handed  the  bags  through 
the  windows  to  the  porters  outside. 

No  one  seemed  at  all  interested  in  the  little  party,  and 
only  the  porters  asked  if  they  were  going  to  the  ma 
noeuvres. 

"  The  name  of  the  hotel  here,"  said  Townshend,  as 
they  drove  away,  "  is  one  of  the  most  delicious  things 
about  Chalons— Hotel  High  Mother  of  God  !" 

"  What  odious  blasphemy  !"  said  Sir  Arthur,  who  was 
a  strong  churchman. 

*  Not  as  bad  as  a  little  shop  in  Paris  called '  At  the  Little 
Jesus  Christ. '  They  don't  stick  at  trifles — these  French. 
And,  knowing  such  things,  how  delightful  it  was  for  us 
when  a  Frenchman  of  a  certain  amount  of  literary  re 
nown  came  to  America  recently  and  wrote  a  book  about 
Americans,  telling  anecdotes  which  were  old  before  I 
was  born,  as  experiences  of  his  own.  Our  wretched, 
joke-loving  newspaper  men  stuffed  him  full  of  the  bald 
est  lies,  and  he  calmly  printed  them  over  his  own  signa 
ture,  with  the  confidence  of  a  child  whose  vivid  imagina 
tion  causes  him  to  say, '  Mamma,  I  saw  a  lion  eat  a  man 
to-day  !'  The  child  fully  expects  his  mother  to  believe 
him,  and  never  dreams  that  the  mother  will  only  scold 
the  nurse  for  telling  him  such  tales  at  bedtime." 

"  Foreigners  are  rather  hard  on  America,  aren't 
they  ?"  said  Sir  Arthur. 

"  Yes,  especially  when  they  spend  six  weeks  with  us 
and  then  write  a  book  about  our  customs." 

246 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

All  Townshend's  spirits  seemed  to  have  returned. 
As  the  hour  of  five  drew  near,  a  look  came  into  his  eyes 
which  boded  no  good  to  his  antagonist,  and,  even  after 
they  had  arrived  at  the  spot,  Carteret  wondered  what 
had  occurred  to  give  him  such  a  contented  aspect.  It 
was  as  if  his  line  of  action  were  settled  upon,  and  as  if, 
in  his  own  mind,  at  least,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
the  final  issue. 

Townshend  and  his  seconds  arrived  first,  but  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  French  party  appeared.  By  con 
sent  of  all  four  of  the  seconds,  the  services  of  the  old  Due 
de  Fleury  had  been  called  in.  He  was  delighted  to 
participate  in  his  twentieth  duel,  and  took  such  pleasure, 
as  Townshend  said,  in  the  ante-mortem  preparations, 
that  the  American  could  not  fail  to  recall  that  curious 
trait  in  the  French  character.  Death  is  so  theatrical  in 
France. 

The  Comte  de  Rouen,  as  the  oldest  second,  finally 
stepped  forward,  saluted,  and  said  : 

"  I  have  the  honor,  gentlemen,  to  beg  of  you  to  con 
sider  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  Will  it  be  possible  to 
arrange  matters  amicably  without  the  necessity  of  a 
duel  ?" 

Townshend  knew  that  the  question  was  a  mere  matter 
of  form.  Nevertheless,  he  fancied  he  saw  in  the  eager 
manner  by  which  all  the  Frenchmen  gazed  at  him,  that 
if  he  weakened,  or  even  assented,  the  marquis  would 
withdraw  and  there  would  be  no  duel.  The  French 
man's  notion  of  honor  would  have  been  quite  satisfied 
by  the  trouble  of  coming  down  to  Chalons,  and  thus 
showing  willingness  to  fight.  It  seemed  so  ridiculous, 
this  child's  play  about  honor  being  satisfied,  that  the 
American  laughed. 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said.  "  I  fully  satisfied  myself  at 
the  Jockey  Club  !" 

The  three  Frenchmen  started  as  if  stung.  The  mar- 

247 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

quis's  face  turned  purple.  His  white  hands  clenched 
and  unclenched  as  they  hung  at  his  sides.  Town- 
shend  looked  at  those  hands  with  a  keen  interest.  He 
had  heard  much  about  them,  but  never  had  noticed  them 
before.  With  the  observation  of  an  Indian  he  noted 
the  curious  position  of  d'AutemTs  fingers. 

Sir  Arthur  stepped  up  to  his  principal  and  muttered  : 

"  That  was  well  done.     They  never  meant  to  fight." 

Townshend  watched  the  loading  of  the  pistols,  watched 
them  measure  off  the  distance,  saw  the  swords  thrust 
into  the  ground,  took  his  position,  and  waited.  Without 
appearing  to  glance  in  his  antagonist's  direction,  he,  in 
reality,  never  took  his  eyes  off  his  enemy  or  his  seconds. 
He  saw  the  two  physicians  arrange  their  affairs.  The 
Comte  de  Blouet  was  polite,  but,  as  Sir  Arthur  had 
warned  him,  the  hearts  of  both  de  Fleury  and  de  Blouet 
were  with  the  marquis. 

When  the  pistols  were  presented,  the  marquis  seized  his 
and  examined  it  feverishly.  Townshend  took  his  with 
his  right  hand  and  dropped  it  softly  into  his  left — drop 
ped  it  as  carefully  yet  familiarly  as  only  a  man  can  who 
has  known  the  intimate  use  of  it  for  years,  who  has 
slept  with  his  hand  on  its  trigger,  and  who  has  known 
the  feeling  of  having  it  as  his  only  friend  in  a  hostile 
country. 

The  Comte  de  Blouet  stepped  forward. 

"  Take  your  places,  gentlemen  !" 

The  seconds  fell  back  and  left  d'Auteuil  and  Town 
shend  facing  each  other. 

"  1  shall  have  the  honor  of  counting  ten,  during  which 
time  you  are  required  to  fire,  or  not  at  all  !" 

There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence.  Then  he  be 
gan  to  count. 

Townshend  was  standing  five  paces  back  of  his 
sword,  and  simply  stood  still  with  his  pistol  carelessly 
in  his  left  hand.  At  "  three  "  d'Auteuil  sprang  for- 

248 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ward  and  aimed  for  the  American's  heart.  Townshend 
dropped  his  pistol  into  his  right  hand,  and  the  two  shots 
were  almost  simultaneous.  D'Auteuil's  ball  passed 
through  the  American's  shirt  on  the  left  side,  without 
touching  him,  and  Townshend  sent  a  shot  into  Raoul's 
left  hand,  shattering  it. 

With  a  shriek  of  unutterable  fury,  not  of  pain,  the 
Frenchman  let  fall  his  smoking  pistol,  and  stood  glaring 
at  his  enemy  in  a  purple  rage.  He  glanced  at  his  muti 
lated  and  bleeding  hand,  and  instantly  realized  that 
his  chief  claim  to  distinction  was  gone  forever.  His 
beautiful  left  hand  was  utterly  ruined,  and  ruined  by  the 
American's  clumsy  shot.  He  only  suffered  the  doctors 
to  bind  it  up  hastily,  without  examination. 

"  What !  you  are  never  going  to  have  another  round  ?" 
cried  d'Arcy.  "  Consider  !  Your  honor  is  quite 
avenged,  and  it  is  your  privilege  to  declare  the  affair 
finished." 

"  Never  !"  cried  Raoul.  "  Reload,  gentlemen  !  1  am 
not  yet  avenged  !" 

He  laughed  horribly,  and  Townshend  only  bowed  in 
acquiescence. 

"  Now  is  the  time  to  watch  him,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  as 
the  pistols  were  presented  a  second  time. 

"  Take  your  places,  gentlemen  !"  said  Rouen.  "  I  am 
about  to  count  ten — " 

Before  the  sentence  was  finished,  the  Frenchman 
sprang  forward  two  paces  in  front  of  his  sword  and  fired. 
The  ball  whistled  past  Townshend's  ear.  Without 
moving  a  step  forward,  he  raised  his  pistol  and  delib 
erately  shot  two  of  the  fingers  from  the  marquis's  right 
hand. 

It  was  more  grief  and  chagrin  than  pain  which  caused 
the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  to  faint  away,  even  before  his 
wounds  were  dressed. 

The  Due  de  Fleury  and  Rouen  and  d'Arcy  came  to 

249 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

shake  hands  with  Townshend,  while  the  doctors  were 
attending  to  Raoul. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  your  principal  firing  before 
you  began  to  count,  M.  le  Comte  ?"  asked  Sir  Arthur, 
with  all  the  Englishman's  hatred  of  foul  play. 

"  Oh,  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Rouen.  "  I 
really  had  begun." 

Townshend  laughed  brutally.  The  Frenchmen  col 
ored. 

"  But  I  assure  you,"  said  d'Arcy,  "  I  heard  him  with 
my  own  ears." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  Due  de  Fleury. 

The  Englishman  stared. 

"  Well,  you  will  admit  that  he  stood  fully  two  paces 
in  front  of  his  sword  when  the  shot  was  fired,"  said  Sir 
Arthur. 

"  Not  at  all !"  exclaimed  Rouen.  "  I  was  looking  di 
rectly  at  him.  He  leaped  forward  so  that  his  right  foot 
was  on  a  line  with  the  sword.  You  are  quite  mistaken, 
I  fear." 

"  It  was  his  shadow  which  fell  in  advance  of  him," 
added  de  Blouet. 

Townshend  glared  at  his  second  for  giving  lying  evi 
dence  in  favor  of  the  enemy,  and  then  laughed  again. 
What  chance  does  honest  testimony  stand  at  a  French 
trial  ?  Townshend  and  Carteret  looked  at  each  other. 

"  The  sun  happened  to  be  at  my  left,"  said  the  Ameri 
can.  "  We  stood  facing  north  and  south." 

"  Raoul  made  rather  a  good  shot,"  said  de  Blouet,  ma 
liciously,  touching  the  hole  in  his  principal's  shirt. 
"  Rather  better  than  you,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak 
so  frankly.  I  had  always  heard  that  you  were  an  ex 
pert." 

His  tone  was  insulting. 

The  Englishman's  red  face  grew  redder. 

"  Show  them,  Townshend  !"  he  said. 

250 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

For  an  instant  vanity  tempted  the  American  to  give 
an  exhibition  of  his  skill.  He  glanced  around  swiftly, 
longing  to  produce  a  theatrical  effect.  Oh,  for  the  old 
trick  of  smashing  a  lighted  lamp  !  Then  he  pulled  him 
self  together  with  a  shrug  of  disgust  for  his  weakness. 

"  I  can  do  better  than  that,"  he  said.  "  I  can  tell  you 
that  my  second  shot  took  off  d'Auteuil's  two  fingers, 
and  injured  the  first  joint  of  his  thumb  so  that  it  will 
have  been  amputated  before  the  doctors  inform  him  of 
his  injury.  Of  the  left  hand,  the  whole  side,  includ 
ing  the  thumb,  is  gone,  and  the  ball  came  out  between 
his  knuckles  and  his  wrist." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  bowed  and  left 
them.  De  Blouet  came  up  to  their  carriage  just  as  they 
were  about  to  drive  away. 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  the  accuracy  of  your  descrip 
tion  of  my  poor  friend's  wounds,"  he  said,  with  a  snarl. 
"  He  will  never  be  able  to  hold  either  a  pistol  or  a  sword 
again.  You  have  deprived  him  not  only  of  his  honor, 
but  of  his  manhood  !" 

Townshend's  eyes  gleamed.  He  thought  of  his  in 
nocent  American  girl  at  the  Fete  des  Fleurs,  and  then 
of  the  mutilation  he  had  deliberately  inflicted  on  her 
enemy,  and  a  sense  of  utter  peace  and  satisfaction 
descended  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  was  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest  apprehension 
that  Raoul  heard  of  the  return  of  his  mother  and  sister 
from  Vrianault.  For  several  days  he  had  lain  in  bed 
contemplating  the  sight  of  his  bandaged  hands.  He 
alternately  cursed  the  American  nation  for  so  valiantly 
defending  their  women  in  whatever  country  they  hap 
pened  to  need  a  champion,  and  the  American  butcher 
for  the  atrocious  mutilation  he  had  inflicted. 

The  comtesse,  his  sister,  came  to  see  him  first.  He 
lay  there  looking  very  white  and  interesting,  and  she 
adored  him  to  the  extent  of  forgiving  everything. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  of  course  we  have  heard  ;  never 
theless,  tell  me  everything." 

"  You  know  about  the  tapestries  ?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  How  did  our  mother  bear  it  ?" 

"  She  has  said  but  little.  She  went  to  mass  a  great 
deal  and  never  slept  while  we  were  at  Vrianault.  She 
is  very  brave  about  it,  and  she  pretended  to  the  servants 
that  she  authorized  their  sale.  It  did  not  deceive  them 
in  the  least,  but,  at  any  cost,  she  has  saved  her  pride." 

"  Poor,  brave  little  maman  !  I  was  so  grieved  to  be 
obliged  to  do  it.  It  was  to  pay  a  debt  of  honor,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"  Tell  me  about  the  duel,  if  you  can  be  calm.  I  must 
not  excite  you." 

"  There  is  very  little  to  tell.  I  am  mutilated  forever 
and  ever.  Never  can  1  appear  without  gloves  with  false 

252 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

fingers.  My  glove-maker  comes  every  day  with  casts. 
He  is  very  clever,  but  nothing  can  ever  restore  my  beauti 
ful  hands.  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  when  1  think  of  that  bar 
barian  1  go  mad  !  I  shall  yet  be  avenged !" 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  poor  boy  !  You  may  count  on 
my  assistance  !  But  tell  me  why  you  took  the  Ameri 
can  to  the  Fete  des  Fleurs?" 

"  Maria  told  me  that  Rose  had  prejudiced  her  father 
against  me,  and  had  told  him  that  I  only  wanted  her  for 
her  money.  So,  when  M.  Hollenden  so  cruelly  insulted 
me,  I  resolved  to  retaliate.  We  French  know  well  how 
to  pay  a  grudge  !" 

"  It  was  dangerous.  If  you  had  consulted  me,  I  could 
have  suggested  a  better  way." 

"  But  who  would  have  imagined  an  American  such 
a  famous  shot  ?  De  Blouet  tells  me  that  as  an  exhibition 
of  the  deliberation  of  his  aim  and  the  fatal  accuracy  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  path  the  bullets  took,  he  described 
to  all  three  just  the  condition  in  which  the  doctors  would 
find  my  hands.  And  it  was  exact !" 

"  If  all  Americans  are  such  marksmen,  I  would  advise 
our  friends  the  Spaniards  to  make  their  speeches  of  a 
more  peaceful  nature.  War  might  prove  disastrous 
even  to  so  gallant  and  brave  a  nation." 

"  Nonsense  !"  cried  her  brother,  irritably.  "All  Ameri 
cans  are  not  such  marksmen.  Think  of  the  brilliancy  of 
the  Spanish  navy  1  They  have  three  complete  fleets  1 
And  who  ever  heard  of  the  American  navy  ?" 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  comtesse,  soothingly.  "  Of 
course  there  will  be  no  war.  The  Americans  do  a  great 
deal  of  loud  talking,  but  they  are  not  brave  and  they 
never  fight.  They  always  '  arbitrate/  if  you  will 
notice  !" 

Her  brother  smiled  at  her  derision. 

"  What  an  admirable  spirit  you  display,  my  dear 
Eugenie  !" 

253 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,  Raoul  !  my  brother  !  If  I  could  only  bear  this 
horrible  mutilation  for  you  !" 

Childish  tears  of  self-pity  came  into  the  Frenchman's 
eyes. 

"  Who  could  have  foreseen  such  butchery  !"  he  cried. 
"  I  have  fought  two  duels  before  this,  and  no  one  was 
wounded  on  either  side  !" 

"  Ah  !  but  this  M.  Townshend  was  angry  to  begin 
with  !  Remember  that.  He  has  lived  in  Paris  for  so 
many  years,  he  knew  very  well  just  how  exquisitely 
you  had  lost  the  American  girl  her  reputation  !" 

"Nonsense!"  cried  her  brother.  "American  girls — 
les  demi-vierges — have  no  reputation  to  lose,  as  our 
carefully  guarded  and  innocent -minded  French  girls 
have."  ' 

*  True.  Nevertheless,  being  seen  alone  with  you 
would  not  improve  even  an  American  girl's  reputation  !" 

"  Naughty  !"  laughed  her  brother.  "  What  a  gift  you 
possess  for  cheering  one  !  1  have  not  smiled  for  four 
days." 

The  servant  entered  to  say  that  madame  his  mother 
would  pay  a  visit  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  the  sick 
room. 

"  Remain  just  outside  the  door,  Euge'nie,  1  beg  !"  cried 
the  young  man,  trembling.  "  My  mother  can  be  terrible 
when  she  likes." 

"  I  will !  But  be  very  gentle  with  her.  Remember 
that  she  suffers  a  thousand  deaths  daily  over  the  loss  of 
the  tapestries.  She  loved  them  like  children." 

His  sister  gave  a  few  hurried  touches  to  the  room, 
straightened  the  bedclothes,  smoothed  his  pillows,  and 
then  left  him. 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  his  mother  appeared. 
She  held  a  lighted  candle  in  her  hand,  which  so  trembled 
with  agitation  that  the  flame  flickered.  All  her  affecta 
tions  of  speech  and  manner  were  gone.  She  had  for- 

254 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

gotten  her  guttural  English  voice.  She  had  forgotten 
that  she  had  hunted.  She  had  forgotten  her  youth. 

She  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  stood  there 
looking  at  her  son  in  perfect  silence.  But  her  terrible 
white  face  spoke1  with  eloquence.  All  the  sins  and 
follies  of  his  wasted  career  crowded  upon  the  young 
man's  mental  vision  as  he  lay  there  arraigned  before  the 
silent  tribunal  of  his  mother's  eyes.  Her  bristling  white 
eyebrows  twitched  nervously,  her  breast  heaved,  but 
still  she  said  nothing.  Her  steady  gaze  was  so  full  of 
intensest  accusation  that  his  own  mind  followed  hers. 
He  remembered  his  follies  one  by  one.  He  shrank  from 
the  disdain  which  lowered  her  eyelids  when  she  recalled 
the  part  the  despised  Americans  had  played  in  their 
more  recent  troubles.  Her  eyes  fell  for  a  moment  pity 
ingly  on  his  bandaged  hands,  and  he  took  hope.  But 
in  an  instant  her  mind  flew  to  his  last  offence,  and  the 
fire  leaped  from  her  eyes  until  Raoul  quailed. 

The  nervous  man  began  to  quiver  from  head  to  foot. 
The  silence  was  something  awful.  Only  the  little  clock 
ticked  away  beside  his  bed,  counting  off  the  minutes 
during  which  his  mother  stared  at  him  in  accusing  si 
lence.  Then,  with  an  awful  dignity,  she  turned  from 
him  and  walked  towards  the  door,  her  garments  creep 
ing  after  her  like  the  whispers  of  an  enemy.  The  agony 
of  the  old  Frenchwoman  was  visible  in  every  movement. 
She  turned  at  the  door,  and,  holding  the  candle  above 
her  head,  she  bent  one  last  terrible  look  upon  her  son's 
blanched  face,  and  then  left  the  room,  still  without 
speaking. 

As  the  door  closed  the  young  man  sat  up  in  bed  and 
screamed  aloud  from  sheer  nervousness.  His  sister 
came  running  in  and  flung  herself  upon  her  knees  be 
side  the  bed. 

"  What  is  it,  my  poor  boy  ?  What  did  she  say  to 
you  ?  Speak,  I  beg  !  Your  pale  face  frightens  me  I" 

255 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Say  ?  She  said  nothing  !  Not  one  word  !  Just 
stared  at  me  like  the  accusing  dead.  Mon  Dieu  !  If 
the  horrible  silence  had  lasted  one  moment  longer  I 
should  have  fainted  from  fear.  She  can  be  the  most 
terrible  person  in  the  world  when  she  likes  !" 

"  Poor  Raoul  !" 

"  I  would  not  have  objected  to  a  torrent  of  reproaches 
— I  was  prepared  for  them  !  But  her  eyes  !  They  will 
follow  me  forever  I" 

"  Probably  she  knew  that/'  said  her  daughter.  "  She 
has  tried  words  with  you  before." 

The  door  opened  and  the  butler  put  his  head  in. 

"  Madame  la  Comtesse,"  he  said,  "  the  little  shriv- 
elled-up  woman  is  here  again,  and  would  like  to  see 
M.  le  Marquis." 

"  The  little  shrivelled-up  woman  1"  repeated  the  com- 
tesse.  There  is  no  exact  translation  for  the  word  "  ra- 
tatinee,"  by  which  servants  always  described  Maria. 

"  The  American  !"  said  the  butler,  as  if  he  tasted 
something  nauseous.  So  well  do  servants  keep  the 
trend  of  affairs. 

"  Maria  !"  exclaimed  the  comtesse,  looking  at  her 
brother.  "  What  can  she  wish  to  see  you  for  now  ?" 

"  Heaven  knows  !"  said  Raoul,  irritably. 

"  Shall  we  let  her  in  ?  She  might  help  to  take  your 
mind  from  disagreeable  scenes,  and  you  can  turn  her 
out  if  she  becomes  annoving." 

"  Very  well." 

The  comtesse  went  out,  and  Raoul  received  Maria 
alone.  She  came  in  gasping  with  excitement.  Some 
thing  gave  the  Frenchman  courage  to  believe  that  all 
was  not  yet  lost.  He  smiled  faintly,  sadly,  and  said  : 

"  My  love  !" 

With  a  sob  she  sank  at  his  bedside. 

"  Oh,  Raoul  !  Raoul  I"  she  wailed. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,  little  one  ?" 

256 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  It  is  because  of  the  hatred  I  have  for  my  sister  and 
the  love  I  have  for  you  !" 

"  But  it  is  not  well  to  hate  one's  sister,  mousey,"  said 
the  marquis,  gently. 

"  Oh,  how  good,  how  forgiving  you  are !  My  angel !" 
cried  the  woman,  hysterically. 

The  Frenchman  raised  his  bandaged  hand  tolay  upon 
her  head,  but  she  shrank  back. 

"  No,  no  !"  she  cried ;  "  you  will  injure  yourself  !  Oh, 
your  beautiful  hands  !" 

"  Alas,  yes  !  All  my  claims  to  a  woman's  love  are 
gone.  I  no  longer  have  the  right  to  love  you,  or  to 
ask  your  love  in  return." 

Maria  raised  her  swollen  face. 

"You  speak  of  love  to  me,  after  all  that  has  hap 
pened  ?" 

"  Did  you  think  it  was  your  vulgar  money  I  loved, 
little  one  ?  You,  with  your  daintiness  and  your  charm  ?" 

"  Oh  !  oh  !"  cried  Maria,  choking.  "  I  told  them 
so  !  I  said  you  loved  me  and  not  the  money  !" 

"  It  was  your  father's  insulting  manner,  my  love.  I 
could  not  brook  his  insolence.  He  is  very  vulgar,  if 
you  will  allow  me  to  speak  so  rudely." 

"  He  is  hopelessly  American,"  said  his  daughter. 

"  He  assured  me  that  he  would  never  give  you  a  sou 
for  a  dowry.  But  did  you  never  know  that  you  are  rich 
in  your  own  right,  my  jewel  ?  The  '  Lonely  Mollie  ' 
mine  is  not  your  father's.  It  is  yours.  Your  mother 
left  you  a  half-interest  in  it.  Has  he  concealed  this 
knowledge  from  you,  my  poor  child  ?" 

Maria's  little  green  eyes  sent  forth  jets  of  flame  as 
she  pulled  herself  away  from  the  bed,  clutching  at  the 
bedclothes,  her  mouth  open,  her  thin  chest  heaving. 

The  Frenchman  was  hazarding  a  shrewd  guess.  He 
wished  Maria  to  go  home  and  tax  her  father  with  this  as 
if  she  knew  it  for  an  established  fact. 
R  257 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Is  that  true  ?"  she  whispered.  "  Have  I  a  penny  in 
my  own  right,  apart  from  him — apart  from— her  ?" 

"  My  darling,  you  are  the  only  one  of  all  the  three 
children  who  has  a  fortune.  Yours  came  from  your 
lovely  mother." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !"  shrieked  Maria.  "  You  are  the  only  one 
who  ever  spoke  so  sweetly  of  my  mother.  My  father 
never  mentions  her — I  do  not  know  why.  Rose  always 
harps  on  hers,  and  my  father  permits  it  without  reproof. 
But  you — oh,  what  exquisite  sentiment  the  French 
have  !  How  well  you  must  have  known  that  it  would 
touch  my  heart  for  you  to  recognize  and  love  her  !" 

The  Frenchman's  mouth  twitched  as  he  looked  at 
the  American's  bowed  head  and  heaving  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  my  little  one,  alas  !  that  I  can  only  mention 
your  dear  mother  to  you  as  a  friend  !  Alas  !  that  since 
I  am  crippled  I  no  longer  have  the  hope  of  calling  you 
my  wife,  and  of  thinking  of  her  blessing  sent  down 
upon  us  from  heaven  !" 

"  But  why  ?"  demanded  Maria,  clutching  with  her 
little  claws  at  the  bedclothes,  as  a  cat  drags  up  the  car 
pet.  "  Why,  if  I  am  rich  in  my  own  right — if  the  dot  is 
enough  to  satisfy  you — why  can  I  not  defy  him  and 
marry  you,  since  you  love  me  for  myself  alone  ?  Why  ? 
Why  ?" 

"  Ah,  my  child  !  If  he  has  never  told  you  of  your 
enormous  wealth,  perhaps  he  has  put  it  out  of  your 
reach.  Perhaps  he  has  given  it  to  Rose." 

Maria  shrieked  and  shook  the  bedclothes  savagely. 

"  Never  !"  she  cried.  "  I  will  kill  her  if  he  has  done 
such  a  thing  !" 

"  Gently,  gently,  my  love  !  You  will  make  me  worse 
if  you  excite  me.  Go  now,  if  you  love  me.  Make  sure  if 
the  money  is  yours,  and  come  to-morrow  to  see  me  again !" 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow  ?  You  are  sure  you  wish  to 
see  me  ?" 

258 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Ah  !  are  you  sure  you  are  willing  to  marry  a  man 
with  maimed  hands — a  cripple  ?" 

Maria  clutched  at  her  starched  collar  until  it  un 
buttoned. 

"  Am  I  sure  ?    Am  I  sure  ?"  she  stuttered. 

"  There,  there,  mouse  !  Go  1  I  am  exhausted  by 
your  vehemence." 

Maria  gave  him  one  long,  passionate,  adoring  look 
and  stumbled  towards  the  door.  Then  she  turned  back, 
and,  bending  over  him,  she  whispered  : 

"  You  are  sure,  sure  you  will  marry  me  if  the  '  Lonely 
Mollie '  is  mine  ?" 

"Ah,  darling,  that  is  for  you  to  say  !  You  will  be  a 
rich  woman  !  I  a  cripple  !  Will  you  then  marry  me  ?" 

Maria  sobbed  hysterically  and  ran  from  the  room 
gasping  for  breath. 

Mr.  Hollenden  and  Rose  were  in  the  library  of  the  new 
house  reading.  Shirley  was  comfortably,  but  un 
willingly,  installed  in  an  atelier  in  the  Latin  quarter, 
leaving  his  father  and  sisters  alone.  The  shaded  lamps 
cast  a  soft  red  glow  through  the  handsome  room,  and 
there  was  no  sound  except  the  crackling  of  Mr.  Hollen- 
den's  paper,  when,  with  a  frightful  bang,  the  door  flew 
open  and  Maria  burst  into  the  room,  the  foam  upon 
her  blue  lips  showing  her  to  be  in  one  of  her  terrible 
furies. 

Rose,  thinking,  not  without  reason,  that  Maria's  fury 
was  to  be  directed  against  her,  hurried  towards  the  door, 
but  her  sister's  first  words  arrested  her. 

"  Father  !"  cried  Maria.  "  Who  owns  the  '  Lonely 
Mollie  '  mine  ?  You  or  I  ?" 

Rose  expected  to  see  her  father  turn  upon  Maria  and 
quell  her  with  a  sentence,  as  she  had  seen  him  do  before. 
But,  instead,  to  her  surprise,  she  saw  the  paper  tremble 
in  his  hands  as  he  laid  it  across  his  knees  and  took  off 
his  glasses. 

259 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Who  has  been  talking  nonsense  to  you  ?"  he  said, 
roughly. 

"  It  is  not  nonsense  !"  cried  Maria,  gathering  courage 
from  his  manner.  "  I  know  that  it  is  true.  I  only  want 
to  hear  it  from  your  own  lips.  Remember  !  I  know !" 

"  Ah  1"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  "  you  have  been  talking  to 
my  lawyers.  They  are  the  only  living  persons,  as  far 
as  I  know,  who  could  have  told  you.  You  are  a  clever 
woman,  Maria  !  I  congratulate  you  I" 

"  Then  you  admit  it !"  cried  his  daughter,  eagerly, 
coming  closer  to  him  and  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair. 
"  The  '  Lonely  Mollie  '  is  mine  ?" 

"  Half  of  it  is  yours.  You  and  I  together  own  a  con 
trolling  interest.  When  the  mine  began  to  pan  out,  I 
wired  instantly  for  a  small  block  of  the  stock,  just  in 
order  to  control  it.  I  paid  half  a  million  dollars  for  what 
I  own.  I  only  paid  five  hundred  dollars  for  all  that  you 
own.  You  inherit  it  from  your  mother." 

"  How  much  is  my  share  worth  ?"  demanded  Maria, 
her  little  green  eyes  snapping  with  greed. 

"  Do  you  want  to  sell  ?" 

"  Perhaps.     How  much  will  you  give  ?" 

"  I  will  write  you  my  check  to-night  for  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  your  half-interest  in  the 
'  Lonely  Mollie '  mine,"  said  her  father,  laying  his 
finger-tips  together  and  surveying  her  shrewdly. 

"  Then  it  is  worth  at  least  two  millions,  and  I  won't 
sell  1"  cried  his  daughter,  triumphantly. 

"  Twenty  years  of  Europe  has  not  taken  quite  all  the 
American  out  of  you,  Maria  !" 

"Ah,  ha  !  I  know  that  you  are  said  never  to  pay  full 
value  for  anything,  nor  to  sell  except  at  the  highest." 

Mr.  Hollenden  took  up  his  paper  again. 

"  I  shall  dismiss  those  lawyers  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"  You  needn't !"  cried  Maria,  casting  herself  into  a 
chair  and  clasping  her  knee.  "  I  haven't  been  near 

260 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

them.     The  Marquis  d'Auteuil  told  me.     He  learned  of 
it  in  Denver." 

"  In  Denver  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hollenden.  "  Was  that 
Frenchman  on  my  trail  as  far  back  as  that  ?" 

"  The  baronne  says  that  he  went  solely  for  the  pur 
pose  of  verifying  the  reports  of  your  wealth,"  said  Rose, 
quietly. 

Maria  made  a  dive  for  her  sister,  but  her  father's  voice 
arrested  her. 

"  Sit  down  !"  he  thundered.  "  Now  tell  me  what  you 
intend  to  do  ?" 

"  I  intend  to  marry  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  !"  cried 
Maria. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  will  marry  you  on  so 
little,  compared  to  what  he  expected  to  get  out  of  me  ?" 

"  He  said  so  !" 

"  When  ?" 

"  Just  now  !" 

"  You  have  been  to  see  him  ?  You  went  to  call  upon 
a  man,  alone,  at  this  time  of  night  ?" 

"  I  took  my  maid  !" 

"  Disgraceful  !"  said  her  father,  reddening. 

"  It  is  a  continental  custom,"  said  Maria,  contemptu 
ously.  "It  may  not  be  done  in  the  States,  but  it  is 
perfectly  proper  here,  If  you  knew  more  about  society, 
you  would  not  make  yourself  so  absurd  with  your  Ameri 
can  prudery." 

Mr.  Hollenden  sprang  from  his  chair  ar;d  began  to 
pace  the  floor  with  his  hands  clenched  angrily  in  his 
pockets.  Maria's  insolence  was  becoming  unbearable. 

"  How  like  your  mother  you  are,  Maria  !"  he  said. 

"  That  must  be  a  compliment,  for  the  Marquis  d'Au 
teuil  referred  to  her  to-night  as  my  '  lovely  mother,'" 
retorted  Maria. 

"  Your  mother,  my  dear  Maria,  was  my  cook." 

"  What  ?"  cried  Rose,  crimsoning. 

261 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Your  cook  !"  gasped  Maria. 

*  And  I  told  the  marquis  so  when  he  came  to  ask  for 
you,"  pursued  her  father,  pitilessly. 

Maria  was  too  furious  to  speak.     She  sat  choking. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?"  asked  Rose,  breathlessly. 

"  He  said  it  made  no  difference  !  Beautiful  of  him, 
wasn't  it  ?" 

"  Ah  !     I  told  you  he  loved  me  !"  cried  Maria. 

"  You  poor  little  fool !  The  first  time  after  your  mar 
riage  that  he  hurls  the  fact  at  you  in  one  of  his  fits  of 
anger,  think  of  me  !" 

"  I  don't  care  !     Let  him  !" 

"  You  are  determined  to  marry  him,  after  everybody 
has  warned  you — after  all  that  I  have  said  ?" 

*  Nothing  shall  prevent  me  !"  cried  Maria,  springing 
to  her  feet  and  walking  up  and  down  excitedly. 

Rose  slipped  out  of  the  room  without  speaking.  Mr. 
Hollenden  watched  Maria's  curious  gait  until  he  could 
stand  it  no  longer. 

"  Go  to  bed  !"  he  cried,  suddenly. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her  the  American  stood 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  surveying  the  pattern  of 
the  rug  under  his  feet. 

"  She  has  beaten  me,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts.  Beaten 
me  by  a  trick,  just  as  her  mother  used  to  do.  That 
frog-eating  Frenchman  never  knew  a  thing  positively. 
He  simply  put  the  idea  into  her  head.  She  is  a  little 
devil — that  Maria.  But  at  least  she  will  be  the  Mar 
quise  d'Auteuil,  and  that's  something  1" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ROSE'S  one  consolation,  during  the  tempestuous 
weeks  which  followed  her  sister's  engagement  to  the 
marquis,  was  that  Marion  Gregory  and  Lida  Schermer- 
horn  would  soon  return  from  Austria.  They  intended 
to  spend  the  winter  in  Paris,  and  Rose  had  secured  an 
apartment  for  them.  The  Comtesse  de  Brissy  made  a 
fruitless  effort  to  induce  Rose  to  take  one  of  hers,  and 
Mr.  Hollenden  offered  them  Maria's  entresol,  rent  free, 
but  Rose  shrank  with  loathing  from  any  more  inter 
course  with  the  family  d'Auteuil. 

In  this  she  was  admirably  backed  up  by  Shirley. 

"  Don't  you  do  it,  Rose  !  Get  an  apartment  about 
two  thousand  miles  from  all  of  them,  where  you  and  I 
can  go  without  hearing  the  sound  of  their  confounded 
names.  Get  an  unfurnished  one,  and  let's  furnish  it 
ourselves  to  please  the  girls.  I  know  just  how  Lida 
would  want  her  rooms  done." 

*  All  right,  dear.  That  will  be  lovely.  It  will  take 
my  mind  off  my  troubles." 

"  I  wouldn't  fret  so,  old  girl,  over  Maria.  She's  got 
what  she  wants.  And  she's  behaving  herself,  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life.  The  comtesse  throws  her  hooks 
into  her  when  she  doesn't." 

"  Shirley,"  said  Rose,  "  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that 
the  comtesse  has  her  eye  on  father  ?" 

"  Great  Scott,  no  !" 

"  Well,  think  a  minute.  You  don't  believe  for  an 
instant,  do  you,  that  Maria's  influence  over  father  is 

263 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

sufficient  to  keep  you  studying  art  when  you  despise  it 
so  ?  The  comtesse  is  back  of  it.  She  knows  you  and 
I  stand  together  and  she  wants  to  separate  us." 

"  Does  she  come  here  often  ?" 

"  Every  day.     She  is  selecting  Maria's  trousseau." 

"  She  gets  a  commission  on  every  rag  Maria  buys, 
did  you  know  that  ?" 

"No!     Who  told  you?" 

"  I  was  in  a  shop  and  overheard  her.  She  did  not 
see  me." 

"  I'm  getting  hardened  to  such  things.  I  don't  seem 
to  mind  them  any  more.  But  it's  another  matter  if  such 
a  woman  as  that  is  to  come  into  the  family. " 

"  To  try  to  rule  us  !"  said  Shirley. 

"  To  take  our  mother's  place,"  said  Rose,  softly.  "  Had 
you  thought  of  that  ?" 

Shirley  got  up  and  shook  himself. 

"  She  would  be  a  nasty  one  to  have  around  under  foot 
all  the  time,  wouldn't  she  ?  So  she  is  keeping  me  at 
sign-painting,  is  she  ? — when  I  ought  to  be  at  home, 
trying  for  an  appointment  in  the  army  !  Do  you 
know,  I  believe  we  are  going  to  have  war  ?  There's  a 
lot  of  hot  war-talk  in  the  papers  lately.  Of  course  we'll 
all  go  home  if  there  is."" 

"  Of  course.  But  I'm  afraid  that  we'll  stay  a  long 
time  in  Paris  if  we  wait  for  war  to  take  us  home." 

"  The  French  would  side  with  Spain,"  said  Shirley. 
"  I  have  noticed  lately  several  signs,  '  Se  habla  Es- 
pafwl,'  put  on  smart  shop -windows  under  'English 
spoken  here.'  ' 

"  Why  don't  you  begin  Spanish  ?  If  we  have  war  it 
would  stand  you  in  good  stead." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  said  Shirley.  "  That's  a  good  idea,  Ro- 
sie-posie.  Now  come  along,  and  I'll  take  you  for  a  whirl 
in  my  automobile.  It  gives  Peter  something  to  do  to 
keep  up  with  us." 

264 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  apartment  was  taken  and  furnished.  They  only 
permitted  a  firm  to  do  one  room.  They  even  had  Ma 
ple  over  from  London  for  the  dining-room.  This  was 
before  he  had  his  place  in  Paris.  So  that  when  the 
apartment  was  finished  it  was  perfection. 

"  What's  the  name  of  those  sweets  Townshend  is  al 
ways  sending  you,  Rose  ?"  asked  Shirley.  "  I  want  to 
order  some  for  Lida,  to  have  them  here  when  she  ar 
rives." 

"  Marrons  deguises,  and  you  get  them  very  well  made 
at  Siraudin's,  in  the  Place  de  I'0p6ra." 

The  day  finally  came  when  they  arrived.  Shirley 
and  Rose  went  to  meet  them,  and  Rose  brought  them 
home  in  triumph,  while  Shirley  stayed  to  get  their  lug 
gage  through  the  custom-house.  Shirley  remained  to 
dinner,  and  smoked  through  the  evening,  and  then  went 
off,  rather  more  blithely  than  usual,  to  his  studio  in  the 
rue  Bonaparte.  Rose  had  arranged  to  stay  all  night. 

"  Oh,  Heavens  !"  cried  Lida,  going  to  the  window  and 
looking  down  into  the  brilliant  street.  "  Back  again  in 
old,  crackling  Paris  !  How  I  hate  the  way  the  drivers 
crack  their  whips  !  How  I  hate  the  way  the  newsboys 
always  run  with  their  papers  !  Why  don't  they  walk  ? 
Anybody  would  think  they  were  going  to  a  fire  !  I  al 
ways  want  to  get  up  and  trot  with  them  and  say, 
'  Where's  the  fire,  boy  ?'  All  night  long  they  run  and 
cry  out,  '  De  la  Pray-sse  !'  '  De  la  Pray-sse  !'  And 
here  come  the  carrot  and  turnip  carts — a  long  string  of 
them  from  the  Porte  Maillot,  with  the  drivers  walking 
beside  them  in  their  blue  blouses,  and  those  be-yewtiful 
great  big  Norman  horses,  with  those  fur  tails  hanging 
in  their  poor  eyes.  And  here  go  thousands  of  cabs  ! 
Oh,  Paris  is  a  dream,  in  spite  of  all  its  seamy  side !  Have 
you  had  any  experiences,  Rose  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  few.  I  was  walking  in  the  All£e  des  Aca 
cias  the  other  day  with  the  baronne,  and  the  carriage 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

was  following  us,  when  a  Frenchman  hopped  up  to  me 
and  said,  '  Ma  mignonne !'  Imagine  my  being  his 
'  mignonne,'  when  I  was  twice  his  size  !  The  baronne 
seldom  loses  her  temper,  but  she  appealed  to  a  gendarme 
and  asked  if  two  ladies  must  be  subjected  to  such  in 
sults,  and  the  gendarme  said  yes,  if  they  were  on  foot ; 
that  ladies'  safeguard  in  Paris  was  always  to  drive. 
The  baronne  was  for  signalling  the  victoria,  but  instead 
I  called  Peter,  and  as  he  came  tearing  along  I  said  to 
the  gendarme,  '  I  think  that  you  mistake  yourself.  We 
shall  walk/  And  he  said,  '  But  yes,  mademoiselle. 
You  have  reason.  You  may  walk,  and  no  one  will 
speak  to  you.  Mon  Dieu  !  What  an  animal  !' ' 

"  How  lovely  !"  said  Marion.  "  I  wonder  what  Peter 
will  do  when  he  sees  my  toy  dog.  Will  he  eat  him  ?" 

"  Oh  no  1  He  will  be  very  good  if  I  tell  him  to.  But 
really,  Marion,  this  is  the  tiniest  dog  I  ever  saw.  What's 
this  name  on  his  collar  ?  I  can't  read  it." 

"  Lida  named  him.  We  call  him  the  '  United  States 
Army/  because  there  is  so  little  of  him  " 

Rose  colored. 

"  I  don't  like  that,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  you  lovely,  big,  loyal  thing  !"  cried  Lida,  crouch 
ing  at  Rose's  feet  and  embracing  her  knees.  "  Can't  you 
see  the  fun  of  the  thing  ?  You  would  if  you'd  seen  the 
Austrian  and  the  German  armies,  as  we  have.  When 
we  were  at  Ischl,  the  Austrian  Emperor,  Francis  Joseph, 
heard  of  the  dog,  and  of  how  he  was  named,  and  he  asked 
to  see  him,  so  we  lent  him  to  one  of  the  officers  in  his 
suite,  and  '  U.  S.  Army  '  was  taken  to  •  the  Residenz, 
and  Captain  von  Hartmann  said  His  Majesty  laughed 
heartily.  Wasn't  that  funny  ?  I  thought  that  spoke 
rather  well  for  my  little  American  joke." 

"  It  did,  only  I  would  not  ridicule  our  army  even  for 
the  approval  of  an  emperor,"  said  Rose. 

"  Lida  liked  the  Austrians  very  much,"  said  Marion. 

266 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  had  a  dreadful  time  keeping  her  in  order.  She  had 
a  regular  little  court  of  officers  around  her  all  the  time, 
from  those  in  His  Majesty's  suite  at  Ischl  down  to  little 
second  lieutenants  in  Vienna." 

"  Poor  Shirley  !"  said  Rose. 

"  Oh,  but  there  wasn't  one  among  them  all  who  could 
compare  with  Shirley  !"  cried  Lida.  "  It's  sacrilege — it's 
irreligious  to  say  such  a  thing,  Rose  !" 

"  Shirley  was  the  happiest  thing  while  we  were  fur 
nishing  this  apartment.  I  suppose  it  was  all  on  your 
account,  Marion !" 

"  Of  course,  I  suppose  so,  dear.  But  I  must  say  that 
we  appreciate  it.  Oh,  how  thankful  I  am  for  such  love  as 
you  are  able  to  give,  Rose  !  You  would  be  rich  if  you 
hadn't  a  penny  to  your  blessed  flower  name,  my  girl !" 

"  Rose  is  the  only  girl  I  ever  saw  who  knew  howr  to 
give  to  the  undeserving  poor  in  a  way  which  didn't  wound 
their  pride.  I  take  things  from  her  that  I'd  knock  any 
body  else  in  the  head  for  daring  to  offer  me." 

"And  yet^."  said  Rose,  quickly,  "it  is  just  because 
Shirley  is  the  son  of  a  rich  man  that  you  won't  marry 
him." 

"  How  dare  you,  Rose  !"  cried  Lida,  crimsoning. 

"  Oh,  1  dare  to  say  anything  !" 

"  Nonsense  !     How  is  Mr.  Townshend  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  has  gone  to  the  North  Cape  in  his 
yacht." 

"  Haven't  you  seen  him  since  the  duel  ?"  asked  Marion. 

"  No.     He  wrote  to  say  good-bye." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !"  cried  Lida,  jumping  up  and  flinging 
her  arms  above  her  head.  "  I  think  that  man  is  the 
grandest  hero  I  ever  heard  of  !  Think  of  the  thing  ! 
Think  how  stupid  and  ordinary  it  would  have  been  to 
kill  the  marquis  !  Think  of  the  exquisiteness  of  his  aim 
and  the  everlastingness  of  his  revenge  !  Not  a  day  will 
pass  but  that  the  marquis  will  look  at  his  ruined  hands 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

and  remember  how  he  got  them  !  Will  he  fool  with  an 
innocent  American  girl  again  ?  Well,  1  think  not  ! 
Oh!  oh!  Every  day  1  give  at  least  one  squeal  of  delight 
to  think  of  the  two  little  pop  !  pops  !  of  an  American 
pistol  at  Chalons,  and  of  how  blissfully  a  French  finger 
fell  at  each  shot  !  Just  so  that  he  couldn't  fight  his 
other  duels  !  Oh,  Shirley  wrote  us  about  it,  and  1 
nearly  burst  with  heavenly  joy  !" 

"  What  a  precious  fool  1  was  \"  said  Rose,  crimsoning 
with  shame.  "  I  had  been  told  a  dozen  times.  1  knew 
better.  I  simply  forgot." 

"  We  all  know  but  we  all  forget,"  answered  Lida. 
"  How  can  an  American  girl  be  supposed  to  remember  ?" 

"  Have  you  suffered  very  much  from  it,  Rose  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  have  suffered  from  something.  Of 
course  we  are  visited  and  invited.  The  Duchesse  de 
Briancourt  has  attended  to  that.  But  the  French  don't 
like  me.  They  don't  like  any  Americans.  They  only 
fawn  and  flatter  because  we  are  rich  and  they  hope  to 
get  something  out  of  us." 

"  Have  you  had  any  proposals  yet,  Rose  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  !"  said  Rose,  cheerfully.  "  Father  refuses  a 
Frenchman  every  week.  Once  I  had  no  offer  and  he 
said  Hollenden  stock  had  greatly  depreciated  in  value. 
Then  the  market  took  a  jump  and  the  next  week  1  had 
three.  He  went  about  rubbing  his  hands  and  saying 
that  the  price  of  live  stock  had  risen." 

"  Delicious  !"  said  Marion. 

"  Have  you  got  so  that  you  can  stand  the  men-ser 
vants  coming  into  your  bedroom  while  you  are  in  bed, 
Rose?" 

"  Pretty  well.  I  find  now  that  I  don't  always  stop  to 
think  about  it." 

"  I  have  always  thought  that  person  very  clever  who 
said  '  Humanity  is  divided  into  three  genders — men, 
women,  and  waiters!'"  said  Marion. 

268 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  think  my  sense  of  propriety  is  geographical,"  said 
Lida.  "  In  America,  if  a  man-servant  came  into  my 
bedroom  I  should  scream  and  put  my  head  under  the 
bedclothes.  But  as  I  travel  eastward,  I  begin  to  do 
better.  In  England  the  waiter  brings  my  breakfast  and 
my  letters,  and  I  keep  the  curtains  drawn  until  after  he 
goes,  when  I  ring  for  the  chambermaid  to  draw  them. 
There  seems  to  be  something  so  very  bald  about  allow 
ing  any  unnecessary  conversation  with  a  man  who 
speaks  English,  when  one  is  in  bed  !  But  in  Paris  the 
waiter  draws  the  curtains  and  asks  me — in  French  ! — 
if  I  have  well  slept,  and  I  answer  with  becoming  affa 
bility.  But  as  I  go  farther  east — mark  well  the  downfall 
of  my  American  prudery !  Once,  in  Egypt,  an  Egyptian 
Bey  used  to  send  me  flowers  every  morning  before  I  was 
up,  and  the  florist  himself,  the  proprietor,  used  to  bring 
them.  The  first  time  I  thought  it  was  the  waiter  and 
shrieked  '  Entrez,'  when  in  bounced  this  gorgeous 
creature,  having  an  immense  bridal  bouquet  done  up  in 
silver  paper,  which  he  presented  with  a  most  elaborate 
speech.  My  first  thought  was,  I  regret  to  say,  not  of  the 
impropriety  of  having  a  strange  shopkeeper  in  my  bed 
room,  but  of  the  horrible  fact  that  my  nightgown  cost 
only  eighty-nine  cents  \" 

"  Oh,  you  goose  !"  cried  Rose.  "  Lida,  I  do  think  you 
are  the  most  ridiculous  thing  I  ever  knew." 

Lida  got  up  and  began  to  walk  about  the  apartment. 
Rose  watched  her  a  moment  and  then  said  : 

"  Didn't  you  bring  me  anything,  Lida  ?" 

Lida's  face  crimsoned  with  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  I  did  !"  she  said,  diving  at  a  trunk  and  sinking 
on  her  knees  in  front  of  it. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  Hurry  up,  can't  you  ?  I  do  love 
presents  !" 

Marion  Gregory's  soft  eyes  seemed  to  shed  a  bene 
diction  on  Rose's  head  as  she  listened. 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  How  well  she  knows  how  to  make  each  of  us  happy  !" 
she  thought. 

"  I  brought  you  this  hat,"  said  Lida,  tearing  off  the 
tissue-paper  in  which  it  was  packed  and  displaying  it, 
"  and  it  has  a  history.  One  night  I  dreamed  I  saw  you 
in  a  hat  just  like  this — put  it  on  first  and  let's  see." 

"  But  it's  so  queer,"  said  Rose.  "  Which  is  the  front 
of  it  ?" 

"  Here,  let  me  do  it.  Sit  down.  No,  that's  the  back. 
Now  this  feather  goes  there,  and  is  caught  to  the  hair 
loosely,  like  this  !  Now  hold  still  and  let  me  look  at  you. 
Oh,  Gor'  !  Marion,  isn't  she  stunning  in  it?  Here, 
take  this  hand-glass,  Rose.  You  look  simply  ripping  !" 

"  It's  the  heavenliest  thing  1  ever  saw  !"  said  Rose. 
"  1  never  could  have  thought  it  out  for  myself.  Oh, 
Lida,  what  a  boon  you  are  to  us  !" 

"  There,  Marion,  you  doubted  my  wisdom  !  Are  you 
prepared  to  declare  that  1  am  infallible  from  henceforth 
and  forever  ?" 

"  Yes,  Lida.     1  own  myself  beaten,"  said  Marion. 

"  Go  on  with  your  dream,  Lida,"  said  Rose.  "  1  never 
saw  such  ostrich-feathers !" 

"  And  never  will  again,"  said  Lida,  complacently.  "  1 
got  them  in  Vienna.  But  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  1 
dreamed  that  1  saw  you  in  this  very  hat,  and  that  every 
one  who  saw  you  turned  to  look  at  you,  and  commented 
on  the  width  and  softness  of  your  ostrich-plumes.  For 
two  or  three  days  the  picture  stayed  in  my  mind,  and 
one  day  I  pounced  on  poor  Marion  and  told  her  that  1 
was  on  the  trail.  She  hadn't  any  idea  what  1  meant, 
but  we  got  into  a  cab  and  went  into  an  unfamiliar  part 
of  the  city,  where  there  is  the  most  wonderful  dealer  in 
feathers  of  every  sort  and  description.  It  was  a  whole 
sale  house,  but,  being  in  trade  myself,  1  have  a  right  to 
go  to  all  such  shops.  You  never  saw  such  a  place  ! 
There  were  fans  made  out  of  the  tiny  red  feathers,  only 

270 


THE   EXPATRIATES 

a  dozen  of  which  grow  on  the  neck  of  a  humming-bird  1 
He  was  a  marvel,  that  old  Austrian  !  I  asked  to  see 
his  crude  ostrich-feathers,  and  he  spread  several  hun 
dred  on  a  table  before  the  window.  While  Marion  se 
lected  fans  and  boas  1  was  bending  all  my  energies  on 
these  feathers.  Finally  1  took  twelve,  and  asked  what 
it  would  cost  to  wash,  curl,  and  make  up  these  plumes, 
putting  three  into  one,  to  make  them  heavy  and  billowy. 
I  wish  you  could  have  seen  that  nice  old  man's  face  as 
he  sorted  them.  He  clasped  them  to  his  waistcoat  and 
cried  out,  '  You  have  stolen  the  heart  out  of  my  breast  ! 
These  are  my  most  perfect  feathers.  There  is  not  a 
flaw  in  one  of  them !  Wasn't  he  lovely,  Marion  ?  Well, 
then,  he  made  these  exquisite  things,  and  I  made  the 
hat  for  you  myself.  Oh,  Rose,  my  darling,  there  is  so 
little  that  1  can  do  for  you  in  return  for  all  you  do  for  me ! 
1  can't  begin  to  be  thankful  enough  that,  in  spite  of  your 
beauty,  you  are  a  perfect  fool  about  buying  hats  !" 

The  girl's  eyes  were  wet,  and  Rose,  between  laughter 
and  tears,  gathered  her  little  thin  form  into  her  long  arms 
and  hugged  her  until  the  precious  hat  fell  on  the  floor. 

"  Oh,  my  word,  Rose  !  Sentiment  and  hysterics  are 
all  very  well,  but  that  hat  is  sacred !  Pick  it  up,  Marion, 
and  I'll  put  it  away  in  pink  cotton  before  I  go  to  bed. 
Good-night,  my  two  treasures.  Don't  stay  up  until  morn 
ing,  for  there  are  heaps  of  days  coming,  and  I'll  give  you 
no  end  of  chances  to  talk  about  me  behind  my  back  !" 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Rose  held  out  her  arms 
to  Marion,  and  the  tall,  self-contained  woman  let  herself 
be  folded  to  Rose's  heart  like  a  tired  child.  They  said 
nothing  for  a  moment.  There  are  times  when  women 
are  most  eloquent  in  perfect  silence.  Marion's  wound 
ed  soul  needed  the  warm  comfort  of  a  woman's  arms,  and 
there  were  not  even  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  withdrew 
herself.  Tears  are  for  light  sorrows  and  for  happiness. 
Marion  Gregory's  burden  was  one  beyond  their  reach. 

271 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Rose,  simply. 

"  It  is  an  experiment,"  said  Marion.  "  A  desperate 
last  expedient,  which  may  fail  and  land  me  in  utter  ruin 
and  despair,  but  something  had  to  be  done.  Oscar  was 
almost  insane  when  Lena  kept  her  word  to  you  and 
went  back  to  her  father.  She  is  of  Swiss  descent,  and 
did  marvellous  embroidery,  which  she  sent  to  me,  and  I 
sold  it  for  her  at  fancy  prices.  I  bought  a  good  deal  of 
it  myself,  and  I  saw  to  it  that  she  had  all  the  money  she 
wanted,  partly  because  1  wanted  to  keep  her  straight 
and  contented,  and  partly  in  self-defence.  1  didn't 
want  poverty  to  be  her  excuse  for  yielding  to  his  entrea 
ties.  He  even  went  down  to  see  her  twice,  but  the  brave 
little  thing  resisted  him  once,  and  the  second  time  she 
left  town  in  order  to  avoid  him.  There  is  much  of  good 
in  the  little  creature,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  am 
genuinely  fond  of  her.  She  has  exactly  the  face  and 
figure  I  would  have  if  I  could  have  made  myself,  and 
my  wisdom  must  have  been  intuitive,  because  she  cap 
tivated  the  man  out  of  all  the  world  whom  I  would  fas 
cinate  in  that  same  way  if  I  could." 

Rose  leaned  forward  and  caressed  Marion's  long, 
slender  hands,  which  lay  folded  in  her  lap. 

"  Then  she  wanted  to  get  away  from  that  small  town 
and  study  to  be  a  trained  nurse,  so  I  have  put  her  into  a 
training-school  in  New  York,  in  which  1  am  interested, 
and  she  is  doing  well.  She  and  I  seem  to  understand 
each  other.  She  is  restless  and  ambitious,  and  her  em 
broidery  only  occupied  her  hands,  leaving  her  heart  and 
brain  idle  and  hungry.  I  think  she  was  afraid  of  her 
self.  But  she  is  keeping  her  word,  which  she  gave  to 
you  that  night.  You  completely  won  her,  Rose.  She 
almost  worships  you." 

"  Me  ?  Why,  Marion,  dear,  I've  done  nothing  for  her 
compared  to  all  that  you  have !" 

"  No,  Rose.  You  are  her  idol.  Of  course  she  is  grate- 

272 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ful  to  me,  but  no  one  enjoys  prolonged  gratitude.  Like 
condescension,  it  is  too  one-sided  to  be  pleasant.  But 
she  loves  you." 

"And  Oscar?". 

Marion's  face  grew  drawn  and  gray  around  the  mouth. 

"  Oscar  is  a  gentleman,  and  he  has  all  a  gentleman's 
courtesy  and  horror  of  wounding  one.  He  never  in 
tended  to  be  unkind  to  me,  but  his  anguish  over  Lena 
was  hard  to  watch.  He  stayed  away  from  me  a  great 
deal,  although  I  did  my  miserable  best  to  be  attractive 
to  him.  I  wore  gowns  that  1  thought  he  would  like,  and 
he  never  saw  them.  I  would  offer  to  sing  to  him,  and  he 
always  had  a  headache.  Sometimes  he  would  kiss  me 
and  ask  if  he  neglected  me,  and  I  always  said  no.  Of 
course  he  was  neglecting  me,  but  I  never  whined  nor 
allowed  him  to  see  that  I  suspected  that  anything  was 
wrong.  He  was  suffering  so  cruelly  that  I  often  longed 
to  tell  him  that  I  knew  and  that  we  would  bear  it  to 
gether,  but  I  didn't  dare.  I  am  a  perfect  coward  where 
Oscar  is  concerned.  Of  course,  he  was  so  nervous,  he 
often  said  impatient  things  to  me,  and  when  I  over 
looked  them  I  could  see  that  he  felt  grateful  to  me.  But 
it  wasn't  love,  Rose  !  I  bore  it  as  long  as  I  could.  1  saw 
even  his  forbearance  slipping  away  from  me  day  by  day. 
My  presence  was  a  constant  reproach  to  him,  and  so  1  de 
cided  to  come  over  here  for  a  year.  It  was  a  desperate 
thing  to  do.  Sometimes  1  wonder  that  1  dared,  but  I  am 
borne  up  by  the  knowledge  that  he  is  a  strong,  great- 
souled  man.  I  had  his  love  once.  It  was  a  glorious 
experience,  and  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  He  made  me 
perfectly  happy.  Even  now  I  believe  that  that  same 
love  is  there,  deep  down  in  his  heart,  only  temporarily 
covered,  and  that  some  day  he  will  discover  that  I  am  the 
wife  he  still  loves.  Until  then,  I  can  wait." 
s  273 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MARIA  was  aggressively  triumphant  in  her  engage 
ment,  but  Mr.  Hollenden,  having  acknowledged  her 
clever  trickery  to  himself,  resolved  to  turn  defeat  into  a 
victory,  and  for  that  reason  maintained  a  silence  which 
Maria  thought  sullen,  and  rejoiced  accordingly.  Her 
father  was  never  silent  unless  beaten.  She  had  beaten 
him  !  She  baited  him  with  all  the  taunts  Raoul's 
vindictive  brain  could  suggest,  but,  with  a  patience  that 
made  even  Rose  suspicious,  he  mutely  declined  to  reply. 
When  Rose  told  Shirley,  he  whistled  softly,  and  then 
roundly  denounced  Maria  as  the  cause  of  his  being 
kept  at  "  sign  -  painting  "  and  missing  all  the  excite 
ment. 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,  Rose,  and  watch  the  game  for 
all  you're  worth.  Father  has  some  card  up  his  sleeve, 
you  may  be  sure.  How  does  the  comtesse  treat  Maria  ? 
Has  she  received  her  into  the  family,  as  Maria  fondly 
hoped  ?" 

"  I  think  I  should  define  Maria's  position  as  a  sort  of 
upper-servant.  She  carries  the  dogs  to  and  from  the 
carriage — our  carriage  ! — and  whenever  the  comtesse  is 
tired  she  permits  Maria  to  give  her  a  sort  of  massage, 
which  the  comtesse  has  succeeded  in  teaching  to  only 
one  maid,  and  that  maid  left  her.  I  went  in  one  day 
and  found  Maria  kneeling  by  Madame  de  Brissy 's  couch, 
brushing  her  hair  and  giving  her  this  curious,  soft 
massage,  which  is  done  with  only  the  tips  of  the  fingers. 
It  would  drive  me  wild,  but  it  seemed  to  bring  a  sort  of 

274 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

intoxicating  ecstasy  to  the  comtesse.  The  French 
temperament  is  peculiar." 

"  How  disgusting  !"  said  Shirley.  "  Here,  Maria 
would  let  you  die  in  your  tracks  before  she  would  smooth 
a  pillow  for  you  ;  but,  just  to  get  a  foothold  in  a  house 
which  secretly  despises  her,  she  turns  herself  into  a  cross 
between  a  hostler  and  a  footman,  and  actually  performs 
menial  services  for  those  cads.  Rose,  what  do  you 
think  of  the  Parisians  ?" 

Rose  laughed. 

"What  do  you?" 

"  I  think  the  same,  and  many  of  'em  !" 

"  But  1  think  worse  of  Maria  for  permitting  herself  to 
be  so  used." 

"  Pooh,  my  dear  !  Maria  is  only  doing  what  hun 
dreds  of  other  Americans  are  doing  for  the  titled  rotten 
ness  of  Europe.  1  have  seen  more  of  my  countrywomen 
make  door-mats  of  themselves  on  this  side  than  any 
sane  man  would  believe  possible.  And  what  idiots  they 
are  into  the  bargain  !  Can't  they  see  that  they  are  de 
spised  for  it  ?  Why  don't  they  bully  these  foreigners  a 
little,  just  to  make  themselves  respected?  Look  here, 
Rose.  They  must  see  it,  and  just  swallow  it  for  the 
sake  of  the  rumors  which  get  to  America  of  their  glory. 
They  aren't  fools,  really.  They  just  pretend  to  be,  and 
don't  they  give  a  good  imitation  of  it  ?  You  and  I, 
Rose,  with  all  due  respect  to  our  natural  conceit,  are 
neither  brilliant  nor  clever.  We  belong  to  the  common 
or  garden  variety  of  human  beings.  Yet,  on  my  word, 
1  feel  like  a  Mr.  Darwin  when  I  see  things  as  they  are, 
when  all  my  life  I've  heard  just  the  opposite  in  America !" 

"  Well,  remember,  for  one  thing,  Shirley,  that  what 
ever  father's  plans  were,  you  and  I  did  not  come  over 
here  with  any  social  aspirations.  We  were  dragged 
over  almost  by  the  hair  of  our  heads  by  Maria,  and 
Maria  dominates  us  all.  We  must  allow  her  to,  or  fight. 

275 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

And  we  came  over  here  with  no  pride  for  ourselves,  but 
an  overmastering  pride  for  our  country  and  the  flag,  and 
that's  why  we  see  things  as  they  are !" 

Shirley  walked  to  the  window. 

"  Where's  father  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Gone  down  to  Munroe's.  He  said  he  would  be  back 
at  twelve.  What  are  you  working  at,  Shirley  ?" 

Shirley  turned  half-way  round  and  leaned  against 
the  casement. 

"  My  dear,  I'm  having  the  time  of  my  life.  After  that 
article  in  the  Matin,  Monday,  I  rounded  up  all  the  Ameri 
can  students  I  could  get  hold  of,  and  a  few  of  the  other 
fellows  from  the  club,  and  I  read  the  thing  to  them — 
all  sneers  at  America  and  cheers  for  Spain,  and  I  found 
that  about  eight  out  of  every  ten  agreed  with  me  that  we 
are  going  to  have  war  with  Spain.  So  I  organized  a 
company  and  equipped  it,  and  I'm  drilling  'em  to  '  beat 
the  band/  : 

"  Oh,  Shirley,  how  glorious  !  Are  the  boys  enthusi 
astic  ?" 

"  Wild  !  They  drill  until  they  are  ready  to  drop. 
Want  to  come  over  and  see  'em  ?" 

"  Well,  rather !  I'll  present  the  company  with  a 
flag." 

"  They  would  be  delighted.  I  wish  you  would  come 
and  teach  us  the  '  first  aid  to  the  wounded.'  You've 
had  so  much  more  of  army  life  than  I." 

"  I  will,  and  I'll  teach  them  to  cook.  There  are  over 
thirty  ways  of  preparing  hard-tack.  Have  you  got 
any  ?" 

"  It's  ordered.  What's  the  bugle  -  call  for  '  mess  '  ? 
Whistle  it." 

Rose  whistled  and  then  played  it.  But  Shirley  inter 
rupted  her. 

"  Here  comes  Maria,  and  I  can  tell  by  the  way  she 
hops  along  that  she  is  in  a  tantrum.  I  wish  we  had  a 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

cyclone-cellar  in  this  hotel.     I'd  spend  the  next  hour 
there  in  comparative  tranquillity." 

"  Stay  to  breakfast,  Shirley,  do  !  Father  won't  speak 
to  her,  so  I  get  more  than  my  share." 

"  They  make  you  the  buffer,  do  they  ?  Well,  fly  with 
me  into  the  billiard-room  and  we'll  lock  the  door.  / 
don't  care  to  meet  the  little  darling  myself  until  I  am 
protected  by  my  parent." 

It  was  a  curious  breakfast-party.  Rose  and  Shirley 
did  not  appear  until  the  butler  came  the  second  time  to 
say  that  monsieur  was  growing  impatient. 

"  That  means  that  he  is  already  in  the  breakfast- 
room.  Rose,  you  go  ahead,  and  I'll  get  behind  you. 
You  face  death  every  day,  and  I'm  not  used  to  the  firing- 
line." 

But  Maria  was  not  there. 

"  How  are  you,  Shirley  ?"  said  his  father.  "  I  heard 
Rose  laugh  and  I  knew  you  must  be  in  the  house.  Sit 
down." 

"Aren't  we  to  wait  for  the  marquise  ?"  asked  Shirley, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

Mr.  Hollenden's  grim  face  relaxed.  They  all  raised 
their  heads  expectantly  as  Maria's  heels  clicked  into 
the  room. 

"  Good-morning,  Maria  !"  said  Shirley. 

"  How  came  you  here  ?  Father,  why  isn't  Shirley 
at  work  ?  I  saw  Julian  this  morning  and  he  said  Shir 
ley  had  not  been  at  the  studio  for  four  days." 

"  I'm  working  out  a  little  thing  at  home,"  said  Shirley, 
meekly.  "  It  is  my  own  original  idea — the  first  one  I've 
had  in  Paris,  and  all  the  other  chaps  are  wild  about  it. 
They  say  it  has  more  dash  and  go  in  it  than  anything 
they  ever  did." 

"  That's  a  very  good  thing,"  said  Maria,  much  molli 
fied.  "  That  is  the  first  sign  of  enthusiasm  over  art  that 
you  have  displayed." 

277 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Shirley  stole  a  glance  at  Rose's  twitching  lips. 

"  Try  some  of  these  steamed  monies,  Shirley.  You 
will  find  them  excellent." 

Maria  sat  nervously  breaking  off  bits  of  her  crisp 
bread  and  gnawing  it,  glancing  uneasily  at  her  father, 
who  never  turned  his  eyes  in  her  direction.  Something 
had  occurred  to  make  Mr.  Hollenden  unusually  ex 
pansive.  Maria  made  conversation  with  Shirley  with 
so  much  affability  that  the  butler  and  the  first  footman 
retired  to  the  corridor  between  courses  to  discuss  it. 

"  It  is  not  for  long — such  amiability,"  said  Louis,  the 
butler.  "  I  feel  a  storm  in  the  air.  Believe  me,  it  will 
burst  before  the  repast  is  finished.  Watch  the  eyes  of 
monsieur.  They  glitter,  and  he  continues  to  laugh 
silently,  as  he  did  last  night  at  dinner." 

"  When  is  the  wedding  to  come  off,  Maria  ?"  asked 
Shirley.  Maria  bridled  and  clutched  at  the  table-cloth. 

"  It  is  set  for  the  fifteenth  of  this  month — two  weeks 
from  to-day,"  said  Maria,  proudly.  "  My  clothes  are  all 
finished,  and  our  passage  engaged  to  America.  We  are 
to  sail  on  La  Gascogne  and  return  on  La  Bourgogne." 

"  America  1"  exclaimed  Shirley.  "  What  are  you  go 
ing  there  for  ?" 

Even  Mr.  Hollenden  glanced  in  her  direction.  Maria 
saw  it  and  smiled  maliciously. 

"  We  are  going  to  prove  my  claim  to  the  '  Lonely  Mol- 
lie/  and  perhaps  to  sell.  Raoul  has  told  me  of  the  im 
mense  boom  in  mining  stocks,  which  my  father  care 
fully  concealed  from  me,  and  we  think  it  advisable  to 
sell  while  we  can.  There  is  no  telling  when  the  ore  will 
give  out." 

There  was  a  short  silence  after  this.  Then  Shirley 
said  : 

"  How  about  the  marriage  settlements  ?  Do  you 
want  me  to  help  you  about  them  ?" 

"  Your  offer  of  help  comes  a  little  late,"  said  Maria, 

278 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

rudely.  "  I  have  consulted  neither  of  you,  but  have 
signed  them  myself." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  a  perfect  right  to,  but  I  hope  you 
haven't  given  them  too  much." 

"'Them'!  'them'!"  cried  Maria.  "I  have  only 
settled  money  on  Raoul  !  Whom  do  you  mean  by 
'  them  '  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  the  whole  family  d'Auteuil  will  be  upon 
you  for  money,  and  that  you  must  protect  yourself  if 
you  don't  want  to  die  a  pauper  !"  said  Shirley,  stoutly. 

"  There  you  are  mistaken  !"  cried  Maria,  triumphant 
ly.  "  I  have  only  given  the  comtesse  her  commission 
for  arranging  the  marriage,  and  I  am  not  going  to 
give  the  marquise  anything.  Raoul  suggested  that  it 
would  be  much  more  delicate  to  make  her  a  present  of 
these  tapestries,  so  I  have  sent  my  lawyers  to  negotiate 
for  them,  and  they  are  to  bring  me  an  answer  to-day. 
I  dare  say  father  will  miss  them  !" 

"  But  they  are  leased  to  us  !"  cried  Rose.  "  Our  lease 
runs  six  years  !" 

"  Ah-h  !  but  there  is  a  clause  in  the  lease  which  per 
mits  selling,  and,  if  I  have  to  buy  the  whole  hotel,  I  shall 
secure  those  tapestries  for  Vrianault.  I  have  prom 
ised  them  to  restore  it.  I  told  you  this  when  I  was  first 
engaged." 

The  butler  entered  with  a  note  upon  a  tray,  and  hand 
ed  it  to  Maria. 

"  It  is  from  my  lawyers  1"  announced  Maria,  with  im 
portance.  Mr.  Hollenden  leaned  back  and  tapped  his 
waistcoat  with  his  eye-glasses.  Out  of  the  corner  of 
his  pale  eyes  he  saw  Maria  crumple  the  letter  in  her 
hand  and  dig  her  nails  into  the  table-cloth.  The  others 
sat,  apprehensively,  waiting. 

"  Shirley,"  said  his  father,  negligently,  "  last  week  I 
met  that  skunk  d'Auteuil  in  the  Champs  Elys6es,  and 
he  said,  '  Good-morning,  my  dear  papa-in  law  !  I  have 

279 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

not  had  the  pleasure  to  see  you  since  our  last  memorable 
interview,  when  I  asked  for  your  daughter's  hand  !'  He 
will  be  an  amiable  addition  to  the  family,  won't  he  ?" 

"  So  that  is  why  you  have  bought  this  hotel  !"  cried 
Maria.  "  To  keep  the  tapestries  from  their  rightful 
owners  !  This  note  from  my  lawyers  says  that  you 
bought  it  last  week.  I  suppose  you  bought  it  that  very 
day!" 

"  One  doesn't  buy  houses  in  a  day,  my  dear,"  said  her 
father.  "  I  began  negotiations  that  day,  if  you  like. 
I  am  very  much  pleased  with  the  tapestries  myself." 

"  This  may  break  off  my  marriage,"  said  Maria,  hoarse 
ly.  She  controlled  herself  with  difficulty.  Her  head 
swam.  She  forgot  that  she  was  betraying  herself  to 
her  family.  "  It  was  one  of  the  conditions  they  imposed 
— that  I  should  give  back  these  tapestries  that  they  love 
better  than  anything  in  all  the  world  Oh,  father,  sell 
them  to  me  !  Give  them  to  me  as  my  only  share  in  all 
your  money  !  You  might  just  as  well  kill  me  as  to  re 
fuse  me  !  I  tell  you  my  marriage  depends  upon  it  1" 

Her  father  turned  and  looked  at  her — a  pitiful,  shrunk 
en  figure,  the  face  so  distorted  between  rage  and  fear 
that  it  would  have  revolted  the  most  casual  observer. 
He  turned  from  her  to  Rose. 

"  Look  at  your  sister  1"  thundered  Mr.  Hollenden, 
"  and  remember  what  that  man  sneaked  in  and  did  in 
our  absence  !  Tried  to  ruin  her  in  the  eyes  of  all  Paris  ! 
Oh,  I  know  !  I've  heard  enough  of  it  from  our  friends  ! 
All  the  family  resent  it  except  you  !  But  you — you  are 
going  to  marry  him  !  Actually  marry  him  !  It  makes 
me  sick." 

"  But,  father,  I  love  him  !     Have  you  forgotten  that  ?" 

Mr.  Hollenden  gave  her  a  steely  glance  from  under  his 
white  eyebrows  and  shouted  with  mirthless  laughter 

"You  love  him!"  he  cried.  Well,  so  do  I!  I  love 
him  so  well  that  I  am  going  to  keep  the  tapestries!" 

280 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

AFTER  Maria's  stormy  and  hysterical  visit  to  the  com- 
tesse,  in  which  she  shrieked  out  the  story,  in  Raoul's 
hearing,  of  her  father's  purchase  of  their  hotel,  the 
Frenchwoman  shut  her  up  and  bundled  her  out  of  the 
house  with  such  scant  courtesy  that  Raoul  was  sure  his 
sister  had  some  fresh  plan  in  mind.  As  Maria  was 
leaving,  she  hesitated,  longing  to  ask  if  the  marquis 
intended  to  marry  her  or  not.  But  the  glittering  polite 
ness  of  the  Frenchman  and  the  stony  front  of  his  sister 
forbade  such  impertinence  from  the  American. 

D'Auteuil  saw  Maria  to  her  carriage  with  that  sleek 
surface  smoothness  which  she  always  viciously  com 
pared  to  the  more  honest  courtesy  of  Shirley  and 
Townshend.  To  be  quite  accurate,  it  was  this  single 
characteristic  of  the  Frenchman,  this  ineffaceable  souve 
nir  of  the  courtier  race  of  the  world,  transmitted  inex 
orably  with  the  accompanying  insincerity  of  the  habitual 
flatterer,  which  captivated  the  meagre  soul  of  the  am 
bitious  little  American,  whose  early  recollections  savored 
of  the  sickening  equality  and  familiarities  of  Western 
mining  and  lumber  camps.  The  Frenchman  is  always 
a  disciple  of  the  psychic,  and  this  one  in  particular  read 
Maria  through  and  through.  He  knew  that  to  kiss  her 
hand  in  public  would  condone  any  amount  of  neglect  in 
private. 

When  he  returned  to  the  salon  his  sister  was  covering 
the  coals  with  ashes.  The  fire  was  only  lighted  on  the 
entrance  of  a  visitor,  and  was  smothered  on  his  departure. 

281 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Come  into  the  little  salon/'  she  said,  shiveringly. 
"  It  is  not  so  cold  there." 

"  Well,  Eugenie,  what  have  you  to  propose  ?"  asked 
Raoul,  impatiently. 

The  comtesse  slowly  closed  her  eyes  until  she  was  re 
garding  her  brother  through  a  narrow  slit. 

"  Do  you  trust  me,  Raoul  ?    Do  you  think  me  clever  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  both  questions,  with  all  my  heart  !" 

*  Will  you  follow  my  advice  blindly  and  ask  no  ques 
tions  concerning  my  plans  ?" 

Her  brother  hesitated.  Few  men  are  clever  enough 
to  trust  a  serious  issue  to  a  woman's  brain  with  such 
implicit  confidence  as  that  I 

"  You  are  the  only  woman  in  the  world  whom  I  do 
trust,"  he  said,  slowly  weighing  his  words.  "And  even 
you  I  trust  only  because  you  have  nothing  to  gain  and 
nothing  to  lose  !" 

The  woman's  face  paled  a  little. 

"  You  trust  me  only  for  that  reason  ?  Does,  then, 
all  the  devotion  of  my  life  count  for  nothing  ?" 

"  You  have  paid  some  of  my  debts,  and  for  that  I  am 
grateful.  But  how  long  will  it  be  after  I  am  safely 
married  to  my  she-monkey  before  you  will  be  hounding 
me  to  repay  you  ?  Do  you  know  that  it  will  take  two- 
thirds  of  everything  she  has  in  the  world  to  rescue  me 
from  my  present  dilemmas  ?  Can  I  then  afford  to  give 
you  anything  if  I  am  to  live  like  a  gentleman  ?" 

*  Have  I  asked  you  for  a  sou  ?"  asked  his  sister, 
steadily.     "Am  I  not  your  only  friend  ?    For  shame, 
Raoul  !     My  friendship  for  you  in  the  past  should  pur 
chase  your  confidence  in  my  disinterestedness  forever  !" 

"  What  would  your  friendship  for  me  count  if  a  new 
lover  were  to  enter  your  life,  whose  interests  combated 
mine  ?  No,  a  thousand  times,  no  !  I  trust  no  woman 
forever !  I  trust  you  now  !  Be  thankful  for  that.  It  is 
more  than  I  can  say  of  any  other — even  of  our  mother." 

282 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Hush,  my  brother  !  Remember  your  own  sin  in  the 
matter  and  be  gentle  with  our  mother." 

"  I  only  remember  that  I  did  as  any  gentleman,  any 
Frenchman  of  noble  blood,  would  do  !"  cried  Raoul,  vio 
lently.  "  I  sold  the  family  heirlooms  (which  were  partly 
mine,  to  begin  with !)  to  pay  a  debt  of  honor  to  save  a 
woman — one  of  your  friends,  by-the-way  ! — from  her 
husband's  discovery  of  her  fault." 

"Ah-h-h!"  breathed  the  comtesse.  "I  have  always 
been  sure  of  it  !  It  was  well  managed — that  affair. 
You  were  both  clever — very  clever." 

"And,  quite  apart  from  saving  her,"  proceeded  the 
Frenchman,  growing  expansive  under  sympathy,  "  he 
would  have  assassinated  me !  He  is  the  sort  of  beast 
who  would  fire  on  an  unarmed  man  if  he  had  him  in 
ftagrante  delicto.  He  is  of  low  blood — that  man  !  He 
has  no  honor." 

The  comtesse  dropped  her  eyes.  Sometimes  she  was 
almost  afraid  that  Raoul  would  tell  her  too  much. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  hastily  reverting  to  the  subject 
in  hand,  "  is  it  true  that  there  is  this  tremendous  rise  in 
American  mining  stocks  and  that  Maria's  mine  leads 
it?" 

"  Absolutely  ;  if  the  newspapers  are  to  be  relied  upon. " 

"  But  they  are  not,"  said  the  Frenchwoman,  decisively. 
"  Listen  to  me,  Raoul.  You  want  ready  money.  Then 
follow  out  your  plan  of  marrying  her  ;  go  at  once  to  New 
York  and  sell  everything  !  Take  advantage  of  the 
newspapers,  instead  of  letting  them  take  advantage  of 
you.  If  her  mine  is  not  really  so  rich  as  they  say,  you 
will  gain  by  the  transaction.  If  it  is,  there  is  no  telling 
how  long  it  may  last,  and  at  least  you  will  have  made 
yourself  safe.  This  is  no  time  for  you  to  take  risks  in 
order  to  be  richer  next  year.  You  are  in  desperate 
straits  now,  and  this  American  money  must  save  you." 

"  And  the  tapestries  ?" 

283 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  I  have  not  even 
despaired  of  them  ?  Perhaps  I  can  get  them  into  our 
possession  through  another  channel  1" 

The  Frenchman  brought  his  brows  together  in  deep 
thought  for  a  moment,  bending  a  quizzical  glance  upon 
his  sister.  Then  he  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  You  are  the  cleverest  woman  in  the  world,  Eugenie  ! 
You  have  won  my  respect.  I  will  do  as  you  suggest. 
You  are  so  rich  in  expedients  that  you  can  afford  to  be 
poor  in  pocket !" 

The  comtesse  sprang  up  and  embraced  her  brother. 

"  If  I  succeed  in  my  plans  I  shall  be  rich  in  more  than 
expedients,  and  I  shall  not  be  sorry,  I  can  assure  you 
of  that." 

"  Then  you  will  not  call  upon  me  for  the  debt  I  now 
owe  you  ?" 

"  Never  !     I  might  even  be  your  banker  still  '" 

"  Euge'nie,  you  are  adorable  !" 

"  I  am  more  than  repaid,  my  brother  !  Go,  now,  and 
pay  your  daily  visit  to  our  mother,  but  say  nothing  about 
the  tapestries.  Believe  me,  she  will  not  question  you  !" 

The  young  man  made  a  wry  face.  He  dutifully  paid 
a  visit  to  his  mother  each  day,  holding  an  amiable  mon 
ologue  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  the  old  French 
woman  had  never  spoken  to  him  since  her  return  from 
Vrianault. 

The  Marquise  d'Auteuil  seldom  left  her  room  now, 
except  to  go  to  mass.  With  the  loss  of  the  tapestries  it 
seemed  as  if  the  mainspring  of  her  life  had  snapped. 
She  neglected  all  her  usual  interests,  and  either  sat  with 
her  Book  of  the  Hours  on  her  knees,  staring  at  nothing, 
or  pacing  the  floor,  with  her  heavy,  measured  tread. 

Of  what  avail  had  been  all  her  efforts  to  pay  Raoul's 
debts  and  keep  an  open  scandal  from  their  name  ?  For 
what  had  she  borne  the  shocking  infidelities  of  her  hus 
band,  except  to  win  his  forbearance  for  her  love  for 

284 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Vrianault,  which  in  every  fit  of  rage  he  threatened  to 
sell  ?  She  had  brought  a  handsome  dowry ;  to  her  hus 
band  had  descended  Vrianault — not  through  entail, 
but  through  pride.  For  generations  it  had  been  the 
glory  of  every  d'Auteuil  to  know  that  even  the  most 
casual  mention  of  their  name  recalled  to  mind  the 
famous  tapestries  of  Vrianault.  To  secure  them  she 
had  broken  her  own  heart  by  her  marriage,  upheld 
through  years  of  loveless  life  by  pride  in  her  family 
holdings.  Now,  in  her  anguish,  she  cried,  "  To  what 
end?" 

Then,  after  the  first  shock  of  learning  the  depth  of  her 
son's  infamy,  Eugenie  had  held  out  the  hope  that  Maria 
would  buy  them  back  and  restore  the  chateau.  This, 
and  this  alone,  reconciled  her  to  the  horror  of  a  d'Auteuil 
marrying  a  pig-sticker — a  rastaquouere — an  American  ! 

But  now — now  came  the  news  that  the  tapestries  were 
not  only  forever  out  of  their  reach,  but  that  Raoul,  the 
last  of  the  d'Auteuils,  had  so  far  forgotten  his  duty  to 
society  and  his  debt  to  posterity  as  to  persist  in  this  in 
famous  marriage. 

It  was  solely,  then,  for  money — to  enrich  Raoul,  and 
perhaps  Eugenie.  She,  she,  their  mother,  was  to  obtain 
nothing  from  it.  They  had  forgotten  her.  Oh,  the  dis 
grace  of  it !  The  disgrace  of  an  American  marriage, 
and  the  thrice  infamous  ignominy  of  no  personal  profit 
as  the  price  of  it  !  What  was  France  coming  to,  when 
her  sons  polluted  their  blood  in  this  manner  and  thus 
shamelessl.  ignored  their  debts  of  honor  ? 

She  shed  no  tears,  this  haughty  old  Frenchwoman, 
but  she  spat  upon  the  ground  whenever  she  thought  of 
the  Americans. 

When  an  international  marriage  takes  place  between 
impoverished  blue  blood  and  capital,  no  one  except  the 
high  contracting  parties  knows  how  uncertain  both 
anxious  families  are  as  to  whether  the  interesting  event 

285 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

will  really  occur  as  advertised,  or  whether  the  groom's 
wedding-day  disclosures  of  diminished  estates  and  in 
creased  debts  can  drag  the  settlements  up  to  a  satisfac 
tory  figure.  Fortunately,  Maria  Hollenden,  like  many 
of  her  ambitious  compatriots,  was  not  sensitive.  Maria 
had  all  the  making  of  a  female  Napoleon  in  her  thin  lit 
tle  soul.  She  fixed  her  eyes  steadfastly  upon  the  goal 
of  her  desires,  and  not  only  was  undismayed  by  the  re 
buffs  she  met  with,  but,  like  a  fighting  bull-dog,  she  was 
unaware  of  her  injuries  until  she  lay  down  in  the  dark 
ness  to  brood  over  the  situation  and  heal  her  smarts. 
She  was  really  magnificent  in  her  determination,  was 
this  sallow  little  American,  and  let  those  who  withhold 
her  just  meed  of  respect,  because  she  was  bad-tempered 
and  not  beautiful,  remember  that  it  requires  two  con 
ditions  to  persevere  in  most  famous  marriages — either 
total  ignorance,  or  the  courage  and  endurance  of  a  sol 
dier.  Maria  was  not  ignorant.  She  had  lived  a  young 
lifetime — twenty-two  years — on  the  continent  of  Eu 
rope.  Therefore  she  was  to  be  admired  for  her  unfalter 
ing  courage. 

She  gave  up  her  religion  without  so  much  as  a  squeak 
of  remonstrance,  joined  the  Catholic  Church,  promised 
in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  to  bring  up  her  children  in  the  Ro 
man  faith,  and  presented  herself  on  her  wedding  morn 
ing  in  the  famous  vestry  of  St.  Sulpice  in  a  sort  of  trance. 

There  are  moments  when  the  great,  throbbing,  pulsing 
world  forgets  the  past  petty  meannesses  of  a  fellow-be 
ing,  and  lets  itself  drift  into  a  warm  human  sympathy 
with  his  joy  or  sorrow.  No  criminal  was  ever  put  to 
death,  from  the  spy  who  is  shot  to  the  murderer  who  is 
hanged,  but  that  the  readers  of  the  evening  papers  had 
a  temporary  loss  of  memory  for  his  crime,  and  felt  a  mist 
in  the  eyes  for  the  life  which  had  gone  out  in  remorseless 
expiation. 

So  with  Maria.  The  look  of  solemn,  awe-struck  joy 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

on  her  gray  face,  the  purple  flush  which  accentuated  her 
high  cheek-bones,  the  nervous  tightening  of  her  muscles 
under  her  sleek  satin  bodice,  combined  to  drag  upon 
the  sympathies  of  the  spectators.  Even  Rose  and  Shir 
ley  and  the  comtesse  forgave  her  everything,  and  felt  a 
sympathetic  lump  in  the  throat  for  her  transcendent  joy. 
Such  an  expression  of  reverence,  of  religious  ecstasy,  as 
the  seer  of  a  celestial  vision,  is  sometimes  seen  in  the 
face  of  a  novice  in  the  act  of  taking  the  veil  or  of  an 
ascetic  during  the  communion  service.  It  was  patent 
to  all  that  Maria's  marriage  to  her  lover  was  a  sacra 
ment.  Only  this  man  she  was  marrying  was  wholly 
out  of  sympathy  with  her  joy.  As  he  met  her  look  of 
rapt  devotion,  his  gorge  rose,  a  cold  perspiration  broke 
out  around  his  mouth,  and  for  a  moment  a  deadly  nausea 
held  him  in  its  power. 

Maria  had  ordained  the  full  nuptial  mass  with  its  im 
pressive  music  and  beautiful  ceremonials.  As  he  sat  by 
her  side  during  its  slow  performance,  her  bridegroom 
only  got  the  upper  hand  of  his  nervous  malady  by  re 
fusing  to  look  at  her  and  by  counting  the  fringe  of  the 
altar-cloth. 

But  it  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  the  bridal  party  re 
tired  into  the  vestry  to  sign  their  names  and  to  receive 
congratulations.  Even  Mr.  Hollenden  was  there,  hav 
ing  been  personally  persuaded  by  the  comtesse.  Rose 
and  Shirley,  and  Lulu  and  Francine  de  Fleury,  with  the 
Comte  de  Rouen  and  the  Comte  d'Arcy,  constituted  the 
wedding  party. 

Mr.  Hollenden's  present  to  his  daughter  had  not  yet 
been  announced.  Rose  and  Shirley's  entreaties  for 
him  to  give  her  one  had  had  no  effect,  but  to  the  com 
tesse  he  had  not  been  so  obdurate.  His  manner  had 
been  a  little  nervous  of  late,  and  he  had  fallen  into  long 
fits  of  abstraction,  gazing  into  the  fire  and  coloring  when 
spoken  to.  Rose  watched  him  with  a  sad  anxiety  which 

287 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

she  strove  to  conceal.  Too  well  she  knew  what  it  por 
tended. 

As  the  comtesse  embraced  her  brother  she  found  an 
opportunity  to  whisper  : 

"  It  will  not  be  money.  He  flatly  refused,  and  was  set 
upon  diamonds,  but  we  compromised  on  pearls.  They 
find  a  more  ready  sale.  Trust  me  !  They  are  superb  !" 

Raoul  kissed  his  sister  fervently  upon  both  cheeks. 

"  My  good  angel !"  he  said,  aloud.  "  It  is  to  you  I 
owe  all  my  good  fortune  \" 

Maria  blushed  with  pleasure,  and  the  two  de  Fleury 
girls  nudged  each  other  in  malicious  delight. 

Shirley  escorted  the  old  marquise  to  her  carriage,  but 
as  Rose  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  two  young  French 
girls  she  looked  back  for  an  instant  and  saw  her  father 
in  the  act  of  kissing  the  hand  of  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
SHIRLEY  HOLLENDEN   haunted   Mrs.   Gregory's 

apartment  with  such  dogged  faithfulness  that  it  was 
easy  to  see  how  it  was  with  him.  But  from  some  occult 
arrangement  between  the  two  women,  he  never,  by  any 
chance,  saw  Lida  alone.  In  vain  he  laid  traps  and 
worded  invitations  and  plotted.  Lida  circumvented 
him  every  time,  and  only  laughed  at  his  discomfiture. 

But  Shirley  had  one  or  two  memories  locked  in  his 
heart  which  led  him  to  believe  that  Lida  was  holding 
herself  away  from  him  on  his  account  and  not  on  her 
own.  He  had  broken  down  her  composure  once  or  twice, 
and  this  gave  him  courage.  The  bravery  and  spirit  the 
girl  displayed  touched  the  big  fellow  who  wanted  to  be  a 
soldier,  as  no  other  woman's  grace  or  beauty  had  ever 
done. 

"  What  nerve  she  has  !"  he  used  to  say  to  himself  as  he 
sat  in  his  studio  among  his  paints  and  brushes,  polishing 
a  gun-barrel.  "  Here  am  I  who  have  never  known  what 
it  was  to  want  for  anything  in  the  world  that  I  couldn't 
get,  doing  nothing.  And  here  is  a  delicately  reared 
little  lady  thrown  on  the  world  without  an  hour's  prep 
aration,  going  to  work,  and  making  everything  she 
touches  turn  into  money,  by  Jove  !" 

She  replied  to  none  of  his  letters,  and  there  were  mo 
ments  when  he  grew  discouraged  and  almost  despaired 
of  her.  But  really  to  abandon  a  project  was  not  in 
Shirley  Hollenden's  make-up.  He  even  went  so  far  as 
to  warn  Lida,  in  Mrs.  Gregory's  presence,  upon  the 

T  289 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

futility  of  her  procedures.     He  sat  cleaning  his  pipe  with 
Lida's  silver-handled  scissors. 

"  It  would  be  of  no  use,  Mrs.  Gregory,"  he  said,  with 
out  looking  around,  "  for  any  girl  I  had  set  my  heart  on 
to  try  to  escape  me.  I'd  propose  to  her  every  day  for  ten 
years.  I'd  write  to  her,  telegraph  to  her,  cable  her.  I'd 
propose  to  her  at  all  three  meals.  I'd  lie  in  wait  for  her 
and  propose  to  her  walking,  or  riding,  or  driving,  or 
swimming.  I'd  propose  to  her  in  a  cellar,  on  top  of  a 
'bus  or  up  a  tree.  The  only  thing  for  her  to  do  would  be 
to  decide  how  she'd  take  me,  for  take  me  she'd  have  to." 

"  Dear  me,  Shirley  !"  said  Mrs.  Gregory,  faintly.  "  I'm 
glad  I  am  out  of  your  reach.  I  feel  quite  worn  out  by 
your  perseverance  already." 

He  looked  around  at  Lida,  but  she  was  yawning  with 
elaborate  impertinence. 

"  At  any  rate,  she  got  it !"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  was  thinking  of  this  incident  as  he  neared  their 
apartment  one  January  day.  It  was  on  the  top  floor 
and  was  reached  by  interminable  flights  of  slippery 
stairs,  or  by  one  of  those  miserable  automatic  elevators 
into  which  you  shut  yourself,  press  a  button,  and  then 
pray  fervently  that  the  thing  will  stop  where  you  have 
indicated. 

On  this  afternoon  Shirley  stopped,  looked  up  the 
shaft,  and,  seeing  the  lift  at  the  top  floor,  pressed  the 
button  for  it  to  descend.  He  waited  a  moment,  then 
tried  again. 

"  I  suppose  the  thing's  stuck,"  he  said,  beginning  the 
ascent  of  the  stairs. 

As  he  reached  the  top  floor,  he  heard  sounds  which 
made  him  dash  up  the  last  flight  four  steps  at  a  time. 
Then  he  folded  his  arms  and  smiled  with  unctuous 
enjoyment. 

The  elevator  had  indeed  stuck,  but  stuck  in  a  most 
malignant  manner  about  five  or  six  feet  above  the  floor. 

290 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  pointed  spikes  of  the  iron  gate,  which  failed  to  reach 
the  ceiling,  as  ours  always  do,  came  just  above  the  floor 
of  the  elevator,  and  in  the  act  of  climbing  over  them  to 
reach  mother  earth  was  I/ida  Schermerhorn. 

Hearing  steps,  the  girl  paused  in  terror  and  looked 
over  her  shoulder.  When  she  saw  Shirley  she  shrieked 
and  climbed  back  into  her  prison. 

Shirley  stood  still  and  looked  at  her.  Her  music-roll, 
a  hat-box,  and  a  golf  cape  were  lying  on  the  floor  where 
she  had  tossed  them  over  before  her  attempted  escape. 

"  Oh,  Shirley  !"  she  cried.  "  Do  help  me  down  !  I've 
been  here  half  an  hour  and  I  can't  make  anybody  hear 
me.  What  are  you  standing  there  grinning  for  ?  Aren't 
you  going  to  take  me  down  ?  Well,  then,  will  you  turn 
your  back  for  a  moment  ?  Well,  but  you'll  have  to  !  1 
can't  staj7  here  and  argue  with  you  forever  !  Neither 
can  I — well,  I  should  rather  think  I  wouldn't  climb  down 
before  you.  Do  you  think  you're  being  kind  ?  Do  you 
think  it's  nice  of  you  to  keep  me  up  here  ?  I'm  so  tired, 
Shirley.  I  haven't  had  any  luncheon,  and  I  didn't  have 
even  an  egg  for  my  breakfast — only  coffee  and  half  a 
roll.  Oh,  don't  be  a  fool,  Shirley  Hollenden  !  1  wouldn't 
eat  up  here  if  you  should  throw  them  to  me.  Besides,  I 
don't  like  them.  I  want  to  come  down  and  have  my  tea. 
Oh,  I  do  wish  I  were  a  1  ittle,  fluffy,  blue-eyed  woman  who 
cried  !  If  I  only  could  cry.  I'd  give  a  yowl  that  would 
bring  you  to  terms.  But  if  I  tried,  I'd  laugh.  Fancy 
attempting  to  get  my  own  way  with  you  by  crying  ! 
But  I  will  say  this  for  you,  you  are  no  gentleman  \" 

"  Will  you  marry  me,  Lida  ?" 

"  Lord  !  No  !  I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing  ! 
Oh,  don't  go  away,  Shirley.  I — I've  really  been  here 
heaps  longer  than  I  said,  and  I'm  nearly  dead  !  Let  me 
down,  that's  a  darling  I  Well,  really,  Shirley  Hollenden, 
it's  downright  rude  of  you  to  smoke.  And  that  pipe 
smells  horribly.  When  I  have  a  headache  smoke  makes 

291 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

me  ill.  I  have  a  headache  to-day.  What  are  you  sitting 
down  for  ?  You  surely  can't  mean  to  keep  me  up  here 
much  longer  !" 

"  I'm  going  to  keep  you  up  there,  Lida  Schermerhorn, 
until  you  swear  you'll  marry  me.  I've  proposed  to  you 
so  often  I've  lost  count  of  the  times.  If  Marion  or  any 
of  the  servants  come,  I'll  keep  them  off  with  a  gun,  if 
necessary.  1  suppose  you  could  sleep  in  that  cage, 
couldn't  you,  if  you  forced  me  to  stay  here  in  this 
draughty  passage  all  night  ?  Do  you  know  what  my 
name  is  ?  It's  Davy  Crockett." 

Lida's  face  changed.     She  colored  a  little. 

"  You  know  why  1  won't  marry  you,"  she  said. 

"  That's  all  rot,"  observed  Shirley,  briefly. 

"  1  simply  can't  get  my  own  consent,"  moaned  Lida. 

"  Can  you  deny  that  you  love  me  ?  Now,  be  honest 
with  yourself  and  with  me  !  Don't  you  love  me  ?" 

*  Yes,  1  do  !" 

"  Well,  then,  when  can  you  get  ready  to  be  married  ? 
This  is  January.  Will  you  marry  me  in  May  ?" 

"  No,  1  won't." 

"  June,  then  !" 

"  I  won't  marry  you  at  all." 

"  Well,  then,  I  might  as  well  have  a  telephone  put  in 
that  lift,because  you  sha'n't  come  down  till  you  promise." 

Lida  sat  down  on  the  floor  with  her  back  to  Shirley. 
Ten  minutes  passed.  Then  ten  more.  Neither  spoke. 
Shirley  began  to  fear  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  back 
down  and  let  her  out.  But  presently  she  got  up  slowly 
and  looked  down  at  him  with  a  confused  air. 

"  '  That  you,  Mr.  Davy  Crockett  ?'  "  she  said. 

"  '  Yes,'  "  said  Shirley,  springing  to  his  feet  and  going 
towards  her. 

"  '  Then  don't  shoot  !     I'll  come  down  !'  " 

"  Do  you  mean  it,  dear  ?  Do  you  really  mean  that 
you'll  marry  me  ?" 

292 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Yes,  I  really  mean  it." 

"  Dear  child  !" 

"  Now  will  you  turn  your  back  ?" 

"  Jump  and  I'll  catch  you  !" 

"  I  won't  jump  !  I'd  break  my  neck.  No,  turn  more 
than  that  !  And  keep  turned — until — no,  I'm  not  down 
yet ! — I'll  tell  you  when — oh,  Shirley,  don't,  I  can't  get 
my  breath  ! — Yes  ! — I  do  ! — How  many  times  do  you 
want  me  to  tell  you  ! — So  am  I — perfectly  !  No  ! — Not 
yet  —  No !  —  Please  !  —  please !  —  There,  I  knew  it !  — 
You've  broken  my  glasses  !" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ALTHOUGH  the  American  ambassador  and  his  wife 
had  worked  valiantly,  it  was  February  before  they  had 
succeeded  in  furnishing  the  embassy  suitably,  and,  of 
course,  as  yet,  they  had  not  entertained.  Their  first 
official  reception  was  therefore  set  for  the  isth,  and 
Mrs.  Sharp  asked  Rose  Hollenden  and  Lulu  and  Fran- 
cine  de  Fleury  to  serve  the  punch  in  the  dining-room. 

The  young  French  girls  had  never  been  asked  to  do 
such  a  thing  before,  and  they  went  quite  wild  with  de 
light. 

They  arrived  early  and  were  fluttering  around  the 
table,  slyly  giggling  and  winking  at  each  other,  until 
Rose  came  in,  looking  unusually  pale  and  tall  in  a  white 
crepe  gown,  embroidered  heavily  around  the  bottom 
in  silver  bullion. 

They  darted  up  to  her  with  exclamations  of  delight. 

"  What  a  figure  !"  said  Lulu. 

"  How  that  clinging  stuff  sets  you  off  !"  cried  Francine. 
"  But  how  white  you  are  !  Lulu,  where  is  your  rouge  ?" 

"  Rouge  1"  cried  Rose,  indignantly. 

"  To  get  so  furious  is  quite  as  good,"  said  Lulu,  ma 
liciously.  "  You  need  powder  now  to  tone  down  such 
color  !  Good  heavens  !  Don't  be  so  touchy.  You  are 
like  dynamite." 

Mrs.  Sharp  came  into  the  room  just  then,  breathing 
heavily. 

"  How  is  everything  ?"  she  said,  anxiously.  "  I  am  so 
nervous  I  feel  as  if  I  should  fly.  All  the  diplomats  are 

294 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

coming,  and  I  do  want  our  first  official  reception  to  be  a 
success." 

She  scratched  creases  from  the  table-cloth  with  her 
finger-nails  as  she  talked  and  caught  up  a  few  salted 
almonds  in  her  ungloved  hand,  which  she  munched 
while  buttoning  her  other  glove. 

"  The  table  looks  rather  bare,"  she  said,  twitching  the 
violets  to  make  them  show  more.  "  I  suppose  I  really 
ought  to  have  ordered  more  flowers,  but  it  has  cost  us  so 
much  to  furnish  this  house  that  I  shall  have  to  econo 
mize  in  every  possible  way.  I  had  to  choose  between 
music  and  flowers,  so  I  ordered  a  good  band,  and  I  shall 
have  to  trust  to  you  young  girls  to  make  the  dining- 
room  attractive." 

Rose  colored  hotly  to  see  Lulu  nudge  Francine's 
elbow.  She  glanced  hastily  around  the  room.  There 
were  no  flags,  even  over  the  picture  of  the  President. 
She  slipped  away  and  ran  hastily  up  to  where  she  had 
left  her  maid. 

*  Marie,  for  some  reason  the  flowers  have  not  come," 
she  said,  guiltily.  "  Drive  home  like  lightning  and 
bring  all  that  you  can  carry,  and  bring  that  large  silk 
flag  from  the  billiard-room.  Have  Francois  help  you, 
but  hurry  !  And  tell  no  one  I" 

When  she  re-entered  the  dining-room,  Mrs.  Sharp 
was  saying  : 

"  Rose,  I  don't  know  about  the  punch.  I  am  temper 
ance,  you  know,"  touching  the  white  ribbon  on  her 
breast,  "  but  Mr.  Sharp  insists  on  serving  something 
intoxicating.  I  couldn't  afford  champagne,  and  he 
utterly  refused  to  hear  of  a  vin  ordinaire,  so  we  compro 
mised  on  punch.  It  is  very  mild.  I  made  it  myself. 
But  I  know  I  have  done  wrong  to  serve  it  at  all.  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  have  to  resign  from  the  Temperance  Union. 
There  is  also  lemon  frapp6,  which  is  cooling  and  harm 
less.  But  I  am  afraid  people  won't  drink  it  if  they  can 

295 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

get  punch.     Therefore,  I  look  to  you  to  throw  your  in 
fluence  on  the  side  of  the  frapp6." 

"  Miss  Trotter  !"  announced  the  footman. 

The  daughter  of  the  first  secretary  came  in.  She  was 
an  apparition  from  Egypt,  Illinois,  where  her  father  had 
been  coroner. 

"  I  came  early,"  she  said,  in  a  nasal  voice  which  cut 
Rose  like  a  knife,  "  because  you  asked  me  to  pour.  Pa 
won't  be  here  for  two  hours  yet.  He  says  he's  begin 
ning  to  wish  he  spoke  the  lingo.  At  first  he  said  he 
didn't  care,  just  as  long  as  he  got  all  he  wanted  to  eat 
and  drink,  but  life  over  here  in  '  gay  Pahree '  is  opening 
his  eyes  a  little.  I  suppose  7  ought  to  speak  it,  too.  But 
I  only  took  French  six  months,  and  then  gave  it  up. 
Life's  too  short  to  bother  with  fol-de-rols  like  that  1" 

"  That's  all  right,  my  dear, "said  Mrs.  Sharp,  absently. 

"  Here  comes  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Miss  Trotter.  "  And 
he's  got  on  his  Loyal  Legion  button.  I  wanted  pa  to 
wear  his  masonic  uniform,  but  he  wouldn't  do  it.  He  is 
going  to  wear  his  Grand  Army  button  and  a  badge  of  the 
Fireman's  Brigade.  He  said  these  Frenchies  wouldn't 
know  a  hook-and-ladder  badge  from  a  Victoria  Cross. 

"  Is  Mr.  Townshend  going  to  be  here  ?"  asked  Lulu 
de  Fleury. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  He  oniy  arrived  yesterday,  but  Mr. 
Sharp  made  him  promise  to  come.  He  dined  with  us 
last  night,"  said  Mrs.  Sharp,  patting  Lulu's  hand. 

The  young  French  girl  kissed  Mrs.  Sharp's  plump 
cheek,  and  she  and  her  sister  went  out  into  the  corridor. 
Presently  Rose  saw  the  butler  and  footman  follow  them 
and  return,  solemnly  trying  to  repress  their  laughter. 
They  brought  in  a  large  punch-bowl,  and  Lulu  ladled 
out  a  glassful  and  tasted  it. 

"  Thunder  !"  she  whispered  to  her  sister.  "  It  is  noth 
ing  but  eggs  and  milk.  A  gallon  of  it  wouldn't  go  to 
your  head." 

296 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Did  you  tell  him  to  hurry  ?"  murmured  Francine. 

"  I  did  better  than  that.  1  gave  each  of  them  five  francs 
for  himself." 

"  If  you  try  any  of  your  tricks  on  Mr.  Townshend, 
I'll  spoil  your  game  with  Shirley/'  whispered  Lulu, 
fiercely. 

"  Well,  if  you  make  the  punch  too  strong  they  won't 
drink  it/'  retorted  her  sister.  "  See  that  you  don't  over 
reach  yourself.  The  last  time  you  put  in  more  than 
Mr.  Hollenden  said,  and  it  was  bitter." 

"  Rose,  1  have  asked  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil  and  the 
Comtesse  de  Brissy  and  the  Duchesse  de  Briancourt, 
and  they  are  all  coming  !"  announced  Mrs.  Sharp,  with 
spots  of  crimson  coming  into  her  cheeks.  "  I  am  sure 
they  never  were  inside  the  American  embassy  before." 

"  1  am  so  glad,  dear  Mrs.  Sharp,  for  your  sake/'  said 
Rose,  earnestly. 

"  They  are  beginning  to  come  !"  cried  Mrs.  Sharp. 
"  1  must  go.  Attend  to  everything,  Rose,  and  give 
any  orders  you  like,  but  —  dear  !  do  try  to  see  that 
none  of  the  young  men  touch  the  punch  !  1  don't  know 
what  1  should  do  if  I  thought  any  one  took  his  first  taste 
of  liquor  in  my  house  !" 

"  '  Liquor  !'  Oh,  God  !"  sniggered  Lulu  de  Fleury. 
Her  sister  pinched  her. 

"  What  do  you  hear  from  your  married  daughter,  Hol 
lenden  ?"  asked  the  ambassador,  buttoning  his  glove 
in  the  salon,  and  walking  nervously  around  the  empty 
rooms. 

"  Good  news  for  her  husband,"  growled  Mr.  Hollen 
den.  "  That  Frenchman  sold  out  to  Jim  Skinner—you 
know  Jim,  don't  you  ?  He's  in  partnership  with  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Bilkerson,  from  'Frisco — for  a  cool  mill 
ion  and  a  half,  and  I'll  bet  you  a  case  of  champagne 
that  my  blooming  son-in-law  has  the  money  in  his  jeans 
at  this  moment." 

297 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Well,  well,  1  declare  !"  said  Mr.  Sharp.  "  When 
did  that  slump  come  ?  Just  after  he  sold,  didn't  it  ?" 

"  The  day  after,  I  believe.  I'd  have  given  a  hundred 
thousand  to  charity  if  it  had  come  the  day  before." 

"  You  don't  love  your  son-in-law  like  the  good  Chris 
tian  you  are  1"  laughed  Mr.  Sharp.  "  Well,  1  don't 
blame  you.  That  whole  family  are  a  set  of  sharks,  if 
1  am  not  mistaken." 

"  Well,  then,  1  think  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden, 
putting  his  hands  under  his  coat-tails  and  looking  up 
into  the  tall  ambassador's  face  from  his  pale  eyes.  "  That 
sister  of  his  is  the  most  simple-minded,  sincere,  unaf 
fected  little  woman  I  ever  met." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  1  should  have  said  she  was  the 
worst  of  the  lot." 

"  You  never  were  more  mistaken  in  your  life,"  said 
Mr.  Hollenden,  balancing  on  his  heels  and  toes.  "  She 
has  the  cynical  habit  of  talk  that  all  the  French  have, 
but  at  heart  she  is  like  a  child.  People  don't  under 
stand  her,  that's  all." 

A  queer  smile  hovered  around  the  thin  lips  of  the  am 
bassador  as  he  turned  away. 

"  They're  beginning  to  come,  Ambrose  !"  cried  Mrs. 
Sharp,  in  great  excitement.  "  Come  and  stand  here  by 
me!" 

"Now,  don't  get  nervous,  Fanny,"  said  Mr.  Sharp. 
"And,  whatever  you  do,  don't  ask  me  peoples'  names  if  I 
mumble  them,  for  I  sha'n't  know  them  I  I've  given 
orders  for  Lampert  to  announce  each  name  very  dis 
tinctly." 

Rose  found  Captain  Corcoran,  the  American  Military 
Attache,  in  the  corridor,  and  waylaid  him  with  en 
thusiasm. 

"  Oh,  how  fine  you  look  in  your  uniform  !"  she  cried. 
"  I  wish  I  could  have  made  you  wear  it  to  my  ball !" 

"As  if  anything  could  have  made  your  ball  more 

298 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

brilliant  !"  said  Captain  Corcoran.  "  I  have  been  to 
many  handsome  balls  in  my  time,  especially  when  I  was 
attache  at  the  Court  of  St.  James  and  in  Washington 
and  New  York,  but  I  tell  you  sincerely,  my  dear  Miss 
Hollenden,  I  never  saw  so  beautiful  a  ball  as  yours,  and, 
if  you  will  accept  a  soldier's  honest  compliment,  you 
were  the  most  beautiful  woman  there  \" 

"  Oh !  oh !"  cried  Rose,  laughing  and  clapping  her 
hands.  "  I  am  so  glad  I  stopped  you  out  here  1" 

"  You  are  not  vexed  at  my  boldness  ?" 

"  Vexed  ?  I  am  delighted  !  It  is  horrible  flattery,  but 
I  swallow  it  whole  and  cry,  'More!  More  !'  I  wonder 
how  you  knew  that  I  was  feeling  just  a  little  sensitive 
over  the  sumptuousness  of  it  ?  I  was  afraid  it  was  too 
fine.  I  overheard  one  or  two  remarks  of  my  French 
guests  calculating  the  cost  of  the  wines  and  flowers." 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  them,"  returned  the 
captain,  with  spirit.  "  The  French  would  comment 
on  the  cost  of  their  resurrection  robes  and  bite  corners 
off  the  glittering  walls  of  the  New  Jerusalem  to  see  if  it 
were  22-karat  gold.  They  are  the  most  sordid  nation 
who  tread  the  globe  to-day,  and  there  is  no  nation  who 
cares  so  little  for  money  as  those  who  live  in '  The  Land  of 
the  Dollar." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  Thank  you  !"  cried  the  girl,  kind 
ling.  "  How  glad  I  am  to  hear  such  praise  of  my  country. 
Do  you  think  we  shall  have  war  with  Spain?"  she  added, 
anxiously.  "  Did  you  see  the  morning  papers  ?" 

"  I  have  already  applied  to  be  recalled  and  attached  to 
my  regiment,"  said  Captain  Corcoran.  "  I  hope  the 
papers  recalling  me  are  already  under  consideration  in 
the  adjutant-general's  office  !" 

"  Oh  no  !"  cried  Rose,  in  dismay.  "  You  believe,  then, 
that  we  shall  have  war  !  I  can't  think  it  possible.  But 
how  I  honor  vou  for  your  promptness  !  How  I  honor 
you  !" 

299 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  The  French  will  side  with  Spain/'  said  the  captain, 
abruptly.  "  Sharp  thought  best,  under  the  circum 
stances,  not  to  use  any  flags  in  the  decorations  to-night. 
Personally,  I  think  it  was  a  mistake.  I  would  have 
intertwined  the  French  and  American  flags,  as  a  sign 
of  our  good  will,  at  any  rate  !" 

"  Never  I"  cried  Rose.  "  If  France  sympathizes  with 
Spain,  I  would  never  pollute  '  Old  Glory  '  by  having  it 
touch  the  tricolor  !" 

She  pulled  aside  the  portiere  as  she  spoke,  and  Cap 
tain  Corcoran  saw  the  servants  draping  a  beautiful 
American  flag  over  the  portraits,  framed  together,  of 
George  Washington  and  President  McKinley. 

"  By  whose  orders  ?"  he  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Mine  !"  cried  Rose.  "  That  flag  was  given  me  by 
the  officers  of  the  battle-ship  Maine  in  New  Orleans 
Harbor,  where  they  gave  a  dance  for  me.  I  sent  for  it 
and  had  it  put  there  1" 

"  Bravo,  Barbara  Freitchie  !  You'll  enlist  when  war 
is  declared,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  could  !  The  proudest  day  of  my  life,  if 
I  were  a  man,,  would  be  the  day  I  saw  myself  in  the  uni 
form  of  my  country  and  held  my  President's  commission 
in  my  hand,  permitting  me  to  go  and  fight  her  battles  1" 

"  Do  you  look  upon  the  uniform  as  a  patriotic  thing  ? 
I  thought  all  women  liked  it  because  it  is — well,  because 
it  is  a  uniform.  You  know  its  inherent  beauty  is  spoiled 
for  officers  because  street-car  conductors,  petty  railway 
officials,  and  coachmen  copy  it  as  nearly  as  possible. 
Military  tailors  keep  caps  on  hand  by  the  hundred  to 
supply  brass  bands  and  street-car  companies.  And  if 
ever  I  got  caught  in  a  uniform  in  America  at  a  railway 
station,  it  never  failed  to  happen  that  I  wasn't  mistaken 
for  the  conductor,  and  once  a  little  boy  came  up  and 
asked  me  when  the  band  was  going  to  play  !" 

"  Oh,"  groaned  Rose,  wringing  her  hands.  "I  want 

300 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

to  be  Congress  !  I  want  to  be  the  President !  I  wish  I 
could  be  Tzar  of  the  United  States  for  just  twenty  min 
utes  !  I  would  enact  laws  enough  in  that  time  to  right  all 
the  wrongs  our"  regular  army  are  suffering  under  now.  I 
know  you  are  right  in  what  you  say.  I  was  brought  up  at 
a  cavalry  post,  and  one  of  my  greatest  ambitions  ever 
since  I  was  big  enough  to  climb  on  a  horse  and  ride  with 
the  troop  has  been  to  see  a  law  enacted  to  protect  the 
army  blue  !" 

"  How  would  you  do  it  if  you  were  Congress  and  the 
President  and  the  Tzar  ?" 

"  Why,  I  would  frame  a  Federal  law  making  it  an 
offence  punishable  by  fine  or  imprisonment  for  any 
body,  under  any  circumstances  or  for  any  purpose,  to  use 
or  cause  to  be  used  an  inch  of  blue  cloth  such  as  regular 
army  uniforms  are  made  of.  Nor  should  any  society, 
club,  or  organization  be  permitted  to  adopt  a  uniform 
which  had  for  its  decorations  anything  even  resembling 
the  insignia  of  the  army.  I  would  forbid  railway  com 
panies  to  use  any  gold  or  silver  bullion  in  uniforms  of  its 
employees,  and  I  would  frame  a  law  that  protected  every 
smallest  distinctive  particular  used  in  our  regular  army 
uniform  !" 

"  Bravo  !  It  should  be  called  '  The  Hollenden  Bill  for 
the  Protection  of  the  Army  Blue  !' " 

"A  few  lawsuits  over  such  an  issue  would  do  more 
towards  the  instruction  of  the  masses  in  knowledge  of  the 
uniform  of  the  regular  army  than  anything  I  know  of," 
said  Rose.  "  The  ignorance  of  civilians  concerning  it 
disgusts  me.  And  another  thing  I'd  do  to  educate  the 
populace  would  be  to  enact  a  law  compelling  army 
officers  to  wear  their  uniforms,  as  they  do  in  Russia  and 
Germany,  at  all  times  and  on  all  occasions  except  when 
out  of  the  country  on  leave.  If  the  people  saw  it  they 
couldn't  fail  to  love  it.  It  would  mean  something  to 
them." 

301 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  It  is  very  hot  and  uncomfortable,"  said  Captain  Cor 
coran. 

"  I  know  it  is,"  said  Rose,  quickly,  "  yet  I  never  sug 
gested  this  to  any  officer,  no  matter  how  fond  he  was  of  his 
own  ease  and  how  glad  he  was  to  put  on  '  cits,'  who 
didn't  admit  that  if  all  the  other  officers  were  obliged  to — 
if  it  were  an  army  regulation  enacted  for  the  education 
of  the  people  in  patriotism — he  would  gladly  bear  the 
discomfort  of  it." 

"  That  is  perfectly  true,  and  I  agree  with  you.  But 
it  is  a  point  of  pride  with  the  purists  in  the  army  never  to 
wear  uniform  except  when  on  duty  or  on  occasions  of 
state  at  Washington." 

He  paused  thoughtfully  for  a  moment  and  then  said  : 

"  Wouldn't  you  put  the  volunteers  and  militia  into 
another  color  and  keep  the  '  army  blue  '  for  the  regu 
lars  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  I,  though  ?  I'd  put  the  regular  army  of  the 
United  States,  small  as  it  is,  on  a  footing  where  it  would 
be  respected  and  where  it  belongs  !"  cried  Rose. 

"  Have  you  heard — but  of  course  you  have  !  —  what 
Miss  Schermerhorn  calls  Mrs.  Gregory's  dog  ?" 

"  I  have,  indeed.     Lida  is  so  wicked." 

"  She  is  perfectly  charming.  I  congratulate  you  with 
all  my  heart  in  the  prospect  of  having  her  for  a  sister-in- 
law." 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  Rose.  "  Who  is  that  beautiful,  tall 
officer  who  just  went  in,  in  that  pure  white  uniform  trim 
med  with  gold  ?" 

"  That  is  the  Austrian  uniform  for  a  full  general. 
Stunning,  isn't  it  ?  Makes  mine  look  like  thirty  cents." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  it  at  close  range,"  said  Rose.  "  I  never 
saw  anything  so  beautiful." 

"  It  is  Count  Rudolf  von  Pfliigl.  May  I  introduce 
him  to  you  ?  He  speaks  both  French  and  English. " 

The  rooms  had  been  rapidly  filling  during  this  little 

302 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

conversation,  owing  to  the  custom  in  Paris  of  providing 
no  dressing-rooms.  It  seems  a  barbarous  custom  to 
Americans,  for  ladies  are  obliged  either  to  check  their 
wraps  or  to  leave  them  with  their  footmen,  and  to  go 
into  the  presence  of  their  hostess  uncertain  as  to  the 
hang  of  their  trains  or  the  angle  of  their  head-dress. 
But  it  has  the  advantage  of  preventing  the  long  tarry 
ing  in  the  dressing-rooms  so  annoying  to  the  waiting 
hostess  below. 

As  Rose  entered  the  salon  on  the  arm  of  Captain  Cor 
coran  her  beauty  produced  a  hum  of  admiration.  A 
dozen  gorgeous  uniforms  pressed  forward  to  claim  the 
acquaintance  of  the  fortunate  American  military  at 
tache1,  among  them  the  white  one  of  Count  von  Pfliigl. 

He  held  his  plumed  hat  on  his  left  arm,  placed  his 
right  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  jewelled  sword,  and,  bring 
ing  his  heels  together  with  their  clanking  spurs,  he 
made  her  a  military  bow.  The  Austrian  attach^,  a 
Hungarian  by  birth,  kissed  the  American  girl's  hand. 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  said  Count  von  Pfliigl,  much 
chagrined,  "  if  1  had  known  that  in  your  country  that 
was  permitted  !  In  France  one  is  only  allowed  to  kiss 
the  hand  of  madame — never  of  mademoiselle." 

"  Our  American  men  never  kiss  the  hand — that  is,  as 
a  serious  act  of  homage,  but  I  have  seen  it  here  so  often 
that- 

"  Mademoiselle,  believe  me,  if  I  had  kissed  your  hand 
it  would  have  been  a  serious  act  of  homage.  I  have  never 
kissed  the  hand  of  my  empress  with  more  reverence  than 
I  kiss  the  hand  of  perfect  beauty. " 

"  Ah,  then,  in  the  case  of  your  charming  empress, 
you  kissed  the  hand  of  both  at  once,  as  in  her  youth  she 
was  considered  the  most  beautiful  princess  Europe  has 
ever  known,  was  she  not  ?" 

Captain  Corcoran  resigned  his  place  at  Rose's  side  to 
Baron  Sternburg,  the  Swedish  envoy,  delighted  at  the 

303 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

American  girl's  adroit  reception  of  the  handsome  Aus 
trian's  flattery,  and  rejoicing  to  see  that  all  the  pomp 
and  glitter  of  the  magnificent  uniforms  pouring  into 
the  room  did  not  disturb  her  mental  poise. 

"  I  had  the  honor  to  see  you,  mademoiselle,"  said 
Prince  Orloff,  the  Russian  Ambassador,  "  at  the  Theatre 
de  la  Porte  Saint- Martin,  at  the  first  representation  of 
Rostand's  play." 

"  Oh,  '  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  '  !  Yes,  we  were  there. 
Do  you  know,  I  think  that  play  will  be  a  classic,  and 
that  some  day  we  shall  all  be  proud  to  say  that  we  were 
present  at  its  first  representation." 

"  I  am  already  proud  to  say  so,"  responded  the  beauti 
ful  old  Russian,  "  for  it  was  there  that  I  first  saw  you." 

"  Lord  Lucknow,  you  are  just  in  time,"  said  Rose  to 
the  English  Ambassador,  who  presented  himself  before 
her,  followed  by  Sir  Arthur  Carteret  and  Colonel  Sir 
Hubert  Leeds  -  Mariner,  the  attache.  "  Prince  Orloff 
was  just  flattering  me  unmercifully." 

"  Russia  and  England  must  forget  all  national  dif 
ferences,  and  join  hands  in  common  worship  at  your 
shrine,"  said  Lord  Lucknow. 

"  For  shame,  Lord  Lucknow  !"  cried  Rose.  "  That  is 
not  the  speech  of  an  Englishman.  You  are  acquiring 
the  vices  of  the  French." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear  Miss  Hollenden.  That 
was  the  speech  of  an  honest  Englishman.  The  only 
time  we  Englishmen  haul  down  our  colors  is  when  a 
beautiful  American  girl  calls  on  us  to  surrender  !" 

The  salons,  although  small,  began  to  take  on  a  most 
brilliant  air.  It  was  the  first  official  reception  of  a  new 
administration,  and  the  invitations  had  commanded 
all  officials  to  appear  in  full-dress  uniform. 

There  were  tall  diplomats,  with  commanding  figures 
and  military  bearing ;  short,  fat  representatives  of  south 
ern  climes;  lemon -colored  little  men  from  the  South 

304 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

American  republics,  whose  names  are  only  associated 
in  our  minds  with  geography  days,  but  bearing  a  proud 
front  second  to  none,  with  their  brilliant  costumes  and 
jewelled  decorations.  Only  two  or  three  Americans,  in 
cluding  the  ambassador  of  seventy  millions  of  people, 
and  the  servants,  who  moved  noiselessly  in  and  out 
among  the  guests,  were  in  plain  black.  Unfortunately, 
Mr.  Sharp,  although  he  had  been  a  gallant  soldier  in  the 
Civil  War,  lacked  a  military  bearing,  which  might  have 
distinguished  him,  even  in  the  conventional,  hideous 
evening  dress,  but  he  walked  with  a  somewhat  painful 
stoop,  as  if  he  were  ashamed  of  his  gaunt  height. 

Rose  was  not  feeling  particularly  proud  of  her  coun 
try's  representatives,  but  she  held  her  head  high  and 
moved  about,  meeting  all  the  distinguished  guests  and 
holding  a  genuine  court  whenever  and  wherever  she 
paused.  It  was  a  night  of  triumph  for  American  wom 
en,  for  the  Baronne  Valencia  and  Mrs.  Gregory  were 
surrounded  only  second  to  Rose  herself.  The  stream 
of  people  pouring  in  and  out  of  the  small  rooms,  to  and 
from  the  dining-room,  never  seemed  to  slacken.  Faces 
grew  flushed  as  if  from  heat,  and  Rose  ordered  some 
windows  opened.  Gayer  and  faster  flew  the  conversa 
tion,  and  nobody  seemed  to  have  the  slightest  intention 
of  leaving.  Rose  watched  matters  with  surprise,  and 
once  or  twice  made  an  effort  to  relieve  the  de  Fleury  girls 
at  the  table,  but  was  sent  back  to  hold  court  in  the 
salons. 

After  things  were  going  so  that  they  would  continue 
of  their  own  momentum,  Lulu  de  Fleury  took  a  glass  of 
the  lemon  frapp6,  and,  putting  a  teaspoonful  of  punch 
from  the  bowl  her  sister  was  serving,  she  carried  it  in 
to  Mrs.  Sharp,  who  still  stood  at  her  post. 

"  Drink  a  little  of  this,"  she  said.  "  You  must  be  near 
ly  dropping  from  fatigue." 

"  How  thoughtful  of  you,  my  dear  child  !"  said  Mrs. 
u  305 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Sharp.  "  I  didn't  realize  that  I  felt  the  need  of  it.  My, 
how  good  that  is  !  but  it  tastes  of  something.  Get  me 
another  glass,  my  dear." 

"  She  took  to  it  like  an  old  toper,"  whispered  the  young 
French  girl  to  her  sister.  "  Put  a  little  more  of  the  arrac 
into  this  glass." 

"  Dear  me  1"  said  Mrs.  Sharp.  "  How  delicious  this 
simple  drink  is  !  How  can  people  want  liquor  when 
frozen  lemonade  is  so  good  ?  I  wonder  what  this  is  fla 
vored  with." 

"  I  put  a  little  kirschwasser  in.  It  was  quite  tasteless 
without,"  said  Lulu,  demurely. 

"  '  Kirschwasser  ?'     What  is  that  ?" 

"  Why,  it  is  a  table-water  made  from  cherries,"  said 
Mademoiselle  de  Fleury.  "  We  French  use  it  a  great 
deal  for  flavoring  purposes.  Your  butler  had  it." 

"  How  very  nice  !  I  am  so  glad  you  thought  of  it ! 
Are  not  these  rooms  stifling  ?  Send  one  of  the  servants 
for  a  fan,  will  you  please  !" 

"  Certainly  !"  cried  the  girl,  running  away  to  hide 
her  convulsed  face. 

"  It's  all  right !"  she  whispered  in  Francine's  ear. 
"  She  has  already  commenced  to  feel  good.  The  idiots 
are  walking  around  in  the  salons  carrying  their  glasses 
with  them,  but  even  if  she  sees  them  she  will  think  she 
knows  the  worst,  for  has  she  not  drank  two  glasses  of 
the  harmless  stuff  herself  ?  Now  put  the  Trotter  down 
here  and  tell  her  not  to  move  nor  let  Rose  dislodge  her. " 

"  But  will  she,  even  if  we  tell  her  ?" 

"  Won't  she,  just  ?  She  hates  Rose  because  she  is  so 
handsome,  and  the  Trotter  has  had  just  enough  arrac 
to  make  her  as  obstinate  as  a  mule.  1  believe  she'd  hit 
anybody  with  the  punch  ladle  who  bothered  her  now." 

The  two  young  girls,  each  with  a  generous  glass 
of  punch  in  their  hands,  slipped  noiselessly  out  of  the 
room  and  made  their  way  to  the  top  of  the  house. 

306 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Some  half  an  hour  afterwards,  Rose  saw  Shirley  and 
Townshend  enter  the  salon  together  and  look  signif 
icantly  at  each  other.  Shirley  grinned  and  shook  his 
head.  Her  color  rose,  for  Townshend  had  not  yet  paid 
his  respects  to  her,  and  she  had  not  seen  him  since  he 
had  fought  his  duel  for  her  sake.  She  could  see,  too,  her 
father  hovering  around  the  brilliant  Comtesse  de  Brissy. 
He  had  not  left  her  side  since  she  entered.  Rose  was 
intensely  uncomfortable. 

The  beautiful  Duchesse  de  Briancourt  made  her  way 
slowly  towards  the  hostess,  leaning  upon  her  son's  arm 
and  supported  by  a  tortoise-shell  stick  set  with  jewels, 
more  for  ornament  than  for  use,  for  she  was  gaining 
strength  finely  day  by  day. 

At  her  entrance  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  promptly 
turned  her  back  to  avoid  speaking  to  her,  but  the  mag 
nificent  old  French  woman  did  not  even  pass  her  way, 
promenading  slowly  through  the  rooms,  and  pausing 
to  speak  to  Rose  Hollenden  and  to  compliment  the  girl's 
splendid  beauty. 

Over  the  head  of  the  duchesse,  Rose  could  see  that 
at  last  Townshend  was  making  his  way  towards  her. 
Her  heart  beat  fast  and  her  gray  eyes  darkened,  but  just 
then  the  duchesse  turned  away,  and,  seeing  Townshend, 
released  her  son  and  bade  Townshend  give  her  his  arm 
and  take  her  to  her  carriage. 

Ashamed  and  annoyed  by  her  sickening  sense  of  dis 
appointment,  Rose  made  a  movement  of  dismissal  to  her 
court,  who  fell  back  just  in  time  to  witness  the  most 
humiliating  contretemps  of  the  evening. 

The  old  Marquise  d'Auteuil  had  taken  fresh  courage 
upon  Raoul's  marvellous  accession  to  wealth,  and  it 
had  not  been  difficult  to  persuade  her  to  set  her  aristo 
cratic  foot  for  the  first  time  inside  the  hitherto  despised 
American  embassy.  Her  gown  was  a  gorgeous  one, 
and  she  had  even  forgotten  herself  so  far  as  to  enjoy 

307 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

conversation  with  certain  of  the  diplomats.  Prince 
Orloff  was  an  old  friend,  and  she  was  just  signing  to 
Euge'nie  that  she  wished  to  go  when  the  comtesse  whis 
pered  in  her  ear  : 

"  In  the  interest  of  the  tapestries,  you  must  go  home, 
and  take  both  the  maids,  while  I  adopt  the  American 
custom  of  permitting  Mr  Hollenden  to  drive  home  with 
me.  Take  courage  !  Matters  are  progressing  well." 

"  Oh,  will  people  never  go  !"  thought  Rose,  wearily. 
The  rooms  were  still  packed  and  the  poor  host  and 
hostess  were  compelled  to  keep  their  places. 

But  suddenly  Rose  saw  the  tall,  bent  figure  of  the 
American  Ambassador  approaching.  As  he  neared  the 
Marquise  d'Auteuil,  she  turned  from  Prince  Orloff,  and, 
mistaking  Mr.  Sharp  for  a  servant,  she  said,  in  a  distinct 
tone  which  everybody  heard  : 

"  Garcon,  call  the  carriage  of  the  Marquise  d'Au 
teuil  !" 

She  was  so  near-sighted  that  she  did  not  then  per 
ceive  her  error,  but  permitted  the  prince  to  take  her 
empty  glass  and  to  hand  it  to  a  servant  who  approached 
from  the  other  side. 

The  courtly  Russian  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  Ameri 
can  in  a  magnificent  manner. 

"  I  shall  be  jealous,  madame,  if  you  permit  any  one 
to  call  your  carriage  but  myself  i" 

And,  bowing,  he  walked  to  the  door  of  the  salon  and 
cried  out : 

"  The  carriage  of  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil  !" 

The  man  at  the  door  took  up  the  cry  "  The  carriage 
of  the  Marquise  d'Auteuil !"  and  from  footman  to  foot 
man  it  passed  until  it  reached  the  court-yard  and  the 
street. 

Rose  had  turned  so  pale  at  this  contretemps  that 
Shirley  and  Lida  Schermerhorn  came  up  behind  her 
and  Shirley  whispered  : 

308 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Buck  up,  Rosie  !  Shall  I  get  you  something  to 
drink  for  a  bracer  ?" 

"  There  isn't  .any  bracer  here/'  said  Rose,  wearily. 

"  No  bracer  \"  cried  Lida. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  call  this  rough-house  punch  that 
is  twice  as  bad  as  anything  that  father  makes  ?"  cried 
Shirley. 

"  That's  only  lemon  frappe  \"  said  Rose,  derisively. 
"  Mrs.  Sharp  is  a  member  of  the  Temperance  Union,  and 
told  me  to  encourage  the  young  men  to  drink  it  !" 

"  Taste  mine  !"  cried  Lida.  "  How's  that  ?  Any 
lemon  about  that  ?" 

"  Good  Heavens  !  Why,  it's  arrac  !  I  wonder  who 
did  it  ?" 

"  I  know  who  did  it  !  The  de  Fleury  girls.  They  told 
me  they  had  run  a  bill  for  rum  that  would  throw  Mrs. 
Sharp  into  epilepsy,"  said  Lida. 

"  Well,  I  wondered  why  nobody  except  a  few  women 
went  home,"  said  Rose. 

"  Oh,  this  won't  do  a  thing  to  these  foreigners  !"  cried 
Shirley.  "  They,  most  of  them,  never  tasted  an  Ameri 
can  mixed  drink  before,  and  they  don't  know  its  dead 
ly  destroying  power.  To-morrow  they  can't  get  their 
heads  in  at  the  porte-cochere." 

"  Why,  from  the  number  of  'American  bars  '  one  sees 
all  over  Europe,  one  would  think  nobody  drank  any 
thing  but  American  drinks  !"  said  Lida. 

"  Oh  no  !  Besides,  these  so-called  'American  bars  ' 
couldn't  mix  a  drink  that  an  American  would  recognize, 
and  as  to  foreigners  drinking  them,  you  don't  see  one 
Frenchman  at  Henry's  to  fifty  Americans.  No,  with 
but  few  exceptions,  American  bars  in  a  foreign  land  are 
a  delusion  and  a  snare." 

"  Like  the  American  shoes  !"  cried  Lida.  "  I  wish 
you  could  see  the  funny  things  calculated  to  fit  short, 
fat  feet  which  masquerade  in  Paris  under  the  name 

309 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

'  American  shoes. '     And  London  is  only  a  shade  bet 
ter." 

"American  women  have  the  only  pretty  feet  in  the 
world,  7  think  !"  said  Shirley,  judiciously. 

"  Where  are  the  de  Fleury's  now  ?"  asked  Rose,  who 
had  not  been  listening. 

"  They  are  up  on  the  stairs  of  the  third  floor,  nearly 
paralyzed,"  whispered  Lida. 

"  Why,  how  awful  !"  murmured  Rose. 

"  Oh,  they  have  that  balcony  for  an  excuse.  They 
say  they  are  there  to  watch  the  shooting-stars." 

Rose  left  the  room  hastily  and  ran  up-stairs,  not  know 
ing  exactly  what  she  was  going  to  do.  As  she  reached 
the  top  of  the  second  flight,  she  almost  tripped  over 
the  figure  of  Lulu  and  some  man  whom  Rose  did  not 
know. 

"  Lulu,"  said  Rose,  taking  her  hand  and  pulling  her 
to  her  feet.  "  My  brother  and  Miss  Schermerhorn  want 
you.  Go  down  at  once." 

The  young  French  girl  stood  up  sulkily  and  obeyed. 
Rose  smoothed  Lulu's  hair. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  man. 

"  Please  take  her  down  and  look  after  her,"  said  Rose. 

"  Pooh  !  Look  after  yourself  !"  cried  Lulu,  derisively. 
"  I  am  all  right.  Did  you  think  I  didn't  know  what  1 
was  about  ?  I've  been  sitting  here  for  an  hour  !  Any 
body  who  got  to  the  balcony  had  to  climb  over  me." 

Rose  watched  them  descend  the  stairs.  Mademoiselle 
de  Fleury  was,  as  she  had  declared,  amply  able  to  take 
care  of  herself. 

With  a  sickening  sense  of  disgust,  Rose  made  her  way 
to  the  balcony,  walled  in  by  glass,  through  one  of  whose 
open  panes  the  cool,  fresh  air  was  blowing.  As  she 
stepped  out,  a  figure  at  the  farther  end  stirred  and  then 
came  towards  her. 

It  was  Townshend. 

310 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

He  took  both  her  hands  without  a  word  and  drew  her 
into  the  light,  looking  into  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  crying  1"  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  Rose,  my 
love  !  Won't  you  let  me  help  you  ?" 

For  a  moment  the  girl's  heart  leaped  as  if  to  burst  its 
prison.  Then  came  the  recollection  of  the  scene  she 
had  just  quitted,  of  the  deceit,  the  foulness,  the  un- 
cleanness  of  the  Parisian's  life — the  life  he  liked  and 
had  quitted  America  for — and  her  whole  soul  rose  in 
rebellion. 

"  No  !"  she  cried,  sharply. 

As  if  he  read  her  mind,  he  only  held  her  hands  more 
closely. 

"  I  would  give  my  life  for  you,"  he  said,  simply. 

"  You  have  already  risked  it  for  me,"  she  answered 
him,  softly  ;  "  yet,  unkind  that  you  were,  you  would 
never  give  me  an  opportunity  to  thank — no,  not  to  thank 
you  !  But  to  tell  you  that — I  understood." 

"  You  understood  ?  Then  I  am  satisfied.  I  want  no 
greater  recompense  from  you  than  to  believe  that.  Rose, 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  No,  no  !"  cried  the  girl.     "  I  will  not  let  myself  listen 

I        to  you !" 
"  How  truthful  you  are,  my  girl  !     You  will  not  let 
yourself  listen  to  me  !     Oh,  my  love,  why  not  ?     What 
have  I  done  that  you  should  build  up  a  wall  between 
your  heart  and  one  which  beats  only  for  you  ?" 
"  I  cannot  tell  you.     But  sometimes  I  think — " 
"  Well,  sometimes  you  think — " 
"  No,  no !     I  cannot  finish.     Let  me  go !     I  am  so  de 
pressed.     I  feel  as  if  something  awful  were  happening 
in  America !" 

He  bent  and  kissed  the  palm  of  each  hand,  and  even 
through  her  glove  he  could  feel  the  shiver  his  touch 
gave  her. 

She  went  down  and  took  up  the  position  she  had 

3" 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

left,  and  Townshend  stood  in  the  doorway  watching 
her. 

By  this  time  it  had  got  to  be  late,  even  for  Paris,  and 
every  one  seemed  just  waiting  for  the  American  girl, 
the  centre  of  attraction,  to  make  a  movement  to  go,  when 
suddenly  Shirley  Hollenden  approached  with  a  pale 
face,  and  said,  hurriedly,  to  the  American  Ambassador : 

"  Mr.  Sharp,  pardon  me  !  But  bad  news  has  arrived  ! 
1  have  just  received  word  that  the  battle-ship  Maine  has 
been  blown  up  in  Havana  Harbor,  and  four  hundred 
men  killed.  Here  is  the  official  despatch  !" 

Mr.  Sharp  hastily  tore  it  open  and  confirmed  the  aw 
ful  report.  For  a  moment  no  one  spoke. 

"  On  a  friendly  visit  in  Spanish  waters  !"  he  added. 

A  faint,  sibilant  sound,  almost  like  a  hiss,  came  from 
the  outermost  rim  of  the  group.  The  diplomats  heard 
it  and  stirred  uneasily. 

"  The  flower  of  the  American  navy  !"  said  Captain 
Corcoran,  4as  if  speaking  to  himself. 

At  the  words  "  American  navy,"  one  or  two  of  the 
foreign  naval  attaches  covered  their  lips  to  hide  the 
suspicion  of  a  smile  of  irrepressible  derision.  Rose 
Hollenden's  flashing  eyes,  sweeping  the  impassive  faces 
around  her,  saw  it,  and  the  angry,  outraged  blood  be 
gan  to  prickle  in  her  veins.  In  spite  of  the  polite  mur 
murs  of  regret  which  now  began  to  loosen  people's 
tongues,  she  felt  the  indescribable,  almost  impalpable 
sense  of  hostility  which  sensitive  women  feel  in  the  air. 
One  or  two  farthest  from  her  began  to  slip  away,  led  by 
the  action  of  their  wives,  without  making  their  adieus, 
or  even  formally  expressing  their  sympathy.  A  sense 
of  physical  helplessness,  because  she  was  a  woman, 
when  a  man's  courage  was  beating  in  her  heart,  as 
sailed  the  girl,  and  a  dry  sob  rose  in  her  throat.  Her 
country  insulted,  her  flag  dishonored,  hundreds  of  her 
brave  seamen  going  down,  down  into  the  awful  black- 

312 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ness  of  death  without  a  warning  or  a  chance  to  fight 
for  their  lives,  and  here,  in  a  country  trembling  on  the 
verge  of  a  declared  sympathy  with  their  cowardly  de 
stroyers  and  assassins,  not  one  cordial,  earnest  de 
monstration  of  sympathy  ;  not  one  sign  of  rallying  to 
her  country's  support ! 

Diplomacy,  perhaps  ! 

She  ground  her  teeth  at  such  ignoble  refuge  for  cour 
age.  Suddenly  a  thought  struck  her.  She  darted  into 
the  now  deserted  dining-room,  and,  tearing  down  the 
great  silk  flag  whose  staff  towered  above  even  her  own 
tall  head,  she  carried  it  just  inside  the  door  of  the  salon, 
and,  drawing  its  stars  and  stripes  well  out  behind  her 
with  her  left  hand,  she  cried  : 

"  Look,  if  you  will,  upon  a  flag  which  once  floated  over 
the  great  battle-ship  Maine,  which  now  lies  at  the  bot 
tom  of  Havana  Harbor,  with  four  hundred  of  her  brave 
men  on  board  !  1  call  upon  every  man  and  woman  here, 
who  have  hearts,  to  forget  diplomatic  complications  and 
salute  the  flag  of  my  country  and  of  the  brave  battle 
ship  Maine  !" 

A  prince  of  the  house  of  Bonaparte  murmured  in  her 
ear  : 

"  No  one  could  refuse  to  salute  the  flag  of  mademoi 
selle!" 

Rose's  angry  figure  spurned  the  Frenchman's  ill- 
timed  flattery. 

"  The  American  flag !"  she  repeated,  sweeping  her 
scornful  eyes  over  him.  He  turned  on  his  heel. 

Captain  Corcoran  shivered,  and  Mr.  Sharp's  face  ex 
pressed  his  intense  anxiety  of  the  result  of  the  Amer 
ican  girl's  daring.  There  was  a  moment  of  tense  si 
lence. 

Lord  Lucknow,  the  English  Ambassador,  was  the 
first  to  press  forward.  Prince  Orloff,  the  brave  Rus 
sian,  whose  breast  was  covered  with  medals,  followed, 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

holding  his  plumed  hat  high  above  his  noble  white  head 
and  crying  : 

"  Bravo  !     Bravo  !" 

He  stooped,  and  taking  Rose's  hand,  which  still 
clutched  the  folds  of  the  flag,  he  kissed  hand  and  flag 
together  before  them  all. 

Instantly  the  tide  turned.  Every  man  there,  even  in 
cluding  the  Spaniards,  raised  their  hats  in  the  air  and 
saluted  the  Stars  and  Stripes  of  the  battle-ship  Maine. 

Rose's  lips  trembled  and  her  eyes  glistened.  Then 
she  turned,  and,  leaning  her  head  against  the  flag-staff, 
she  lost  control  of  herself  completely  and  burst  into  a 
storm  of  tears. 

"  Courage,  mademoiselle  !"  whispered  Prince  Orloff. 

Inexpressibly  touched  by  her  grief,  the  group  melted 
away,  and  the  salon  was  empty,  save  for  a  few  Ameri 
cans,  who,  with  pale  faces,  had  been  witnesses  of  this 
extraordinary  scene. 

The  American  Ambassador  went  up  to  Rose  and  laid 
his  hands  on  her  two  shoulders. 

"  My  brave  girl  !"  he  said.  "  You  have  done  to-night 
what  even  a  soldier  would  not  have  dared  to  do.  God 
bless  you  for  your  courage  !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  the  handsomest  suite  of  apartments  in  the  Wal 
dorf-Astoria  the  new  Marquise  d'Auteuil  sat  weeping 
stormily. 

It  was  not  often  that  Maria  wept.  She  possessed 
other  means  of  gaining  her  own  way,  and  her  conceit 
was  such  that  no  one  had  power  to  wound  her — no  one, 
that  is,  except  her  husband.  Through  him  she  was 
vulnerable  at  every  point,  and  of  this  knowledge  he 
took  a  cruel  advantage. 

He  was  too  clever  to  beat  her.  He  chose  rather  to 
torture  her  by  silence,  by  a  fixed  stare  which  drove  her 
frantic,  and  by  an  exaggerated  courtesy  in  public  which 
icndered  her  so  nervous  that  her  own  awkwardness  be 
came  almost  grotesque. 

However,  in  partial  extenuation  of  Raoul's  conduct, 
one  must  consider  the  daily  and  hourly  horror  the  beauty- 
loving,  over  -  civilized  Frenchman  suffered  in  being 
chained  to  this  woman  for  life.  The  contrast  between 
his  wife  whom  he  was  obliged  to  see,  to  hear,  and  occa 
sionally  to  touch,  after  having  been  for  five  years  the 
lover  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Paris,  was  a  living 
death.  He  grew  to  hate  Maria  with  a  malignity  which 
racked  his  nerves,  destroyed  his  appetite,  and  turned  his 
every  waking  thought  into  a  desire,  a  prayer,  a  plot  to 
be  rid  of  her.  That  she  was  so  desperately  in  love  with 
him  made  it  worse.  Her  poor  starved  soul  was  so  eager 
to  pour  itself  out  in  a  mad  worship  of  her  husband  that 
she  could  not  realize  that  her  presence  made  him  shiver 

3'5 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

and  her  caresses  nauseated  him.  She  began  to  trick 
responses  from  him.  She  made  him  extravagant  pres 
ents,  knowing  that  he  must  perforce  kiss  her  in  re 
turn.  Once  he  voluntarily  laid  his  hand  on  her  thin 
shoulder,  and  the  unusual  caress  so  maddened  the 
woman  that  she  seized  him  in  her  arms  and  covered  his 
face  with  such  kisses  that  for  a  moment  he  was  too  stag 
gered  to  resist.  He  said  nothing  after  he  had  released 
himself.  He  only  gave  her  one  fierce  look,  and  then, 
bringing  the  diamond  buttons  she  had  just  given  him,  he 
laid  them  on  her  toilet-table  and  left  the  room.  Nor  did 
he  return  to  the  hotel  for  two  days  and  two  nights,  dur 
ing  which  interminable  period  Maria  never  removed  her 
clothes,  but  walked  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  suspense, 
which  left  her  a  pitiable  object  to  greet  his  return.  When, 
finally,  he  did  return,  he  made  no  explanation,  only  in 
quired  formally  after  her  health,  to  which  her  white  lips 
framed  the  reply  that  she  was  well,  and  there  the  subject 
rested.  Neither  ever  mentioned  it.  Raoul  found  the 
diamonds  replaced  in  his  room,  and  he  suffered  them  to 
remain,  but  never  wore  them  in  her  sight. 

Strange  to  say,  this  treatment  only  intensified  her 
passion  for  him.  She  was  so  dazed  between  her  natural 
conceit,  which  led  her  to  believe  that  every  man  who 
looked  twice  at  her  was  fascinated,  backed  up  by  Raoul's 
fervent  ante-nuptial  protestations,  and  his  curious,  per 
fectly  polite  treatment  of  her  in  public,  that  she  never 
fully  took  in  the  force  of  the  fact  that  he  hated  her.  The 
worst  charge  she  ever  made  against  him  in  the  secret 
depths  of  her  own  heart  was  that  he  was  "  cold." 

On  this  particular  morning  he  had  elected  to  stare  her 
out  of  countenance  all  during  the  breakfast,  which  was 
served  in  their  own  dining-room.  His  fixed  gaze  fas 
cinated  her  almost  into  a  state  of  hypnosis.  When  she 
attempted  to  eat,  her  hand  trembled,  and  she  laid  down 
her  fork,  with  the  morsel  of  food  untasted.  If  he  had 

316 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

been  persistent  enough  he  could  have  starved  her  to 
death.  As  it  was,  she  ate  only  after  he  had  left  her. 

When  breakfast  was  over  he  bowed  to  her,  and,  going 
into  his  own  room,  he  locked  the  door  behind  him.  After 
he  found  that  she  loved  to  be  in  his  bedroom  during  his 
absence,  he  always  locked  her  out,  but,  in  spite  of  hav 
ing  endured  this  for  several  weeks,  she  never  became 
accustomed  to  it.  The  noise  of  the  sliding  bolt  seemed 
to  scrape  along  her  raw  nerves. 

But  on  this  occasion  he  had  no  sooner  locked  the  door 
than  he  unlocked  it  and  came  into  her  boudoir.  He  had 
never  crossed  its  threshold  before,  and  her  silly  soul  fond 
ly  imagined  that  this  inaugurated  the  change  in  affairs 
for  which  she  lived  in  hourly  expectation. 

She  whipped  her  handkerchief  out  of  sight  and  watch 
ed  him  close  the  door  and  stand  with  his  back  against 
it  without  approaching  her,  before  she  realized  that  his 
face  was  livid  with  rage. 

"  You  have  had  a  duplicate  key  made  to  my  door,  and 
you  have  dared  to  enter  that  room  in  my  absence  \"  he 
hissed. 

"  I  have  not!"  cried  Maria,  boldly. 

"  Don't  lie  to  me !  Your  maid  has  betrayed  you.  I 
have  the  key  in  my  hand  1" 

Maria's  hand  flew  to  the  chain  inside  her  gown.  It 
was  gone. 

"  That  beast !  that  viper  1"  she  screamed,  on  the  in 
stant  falling  into  one  of  her  old  rages.  Suddenly  she 
ceased  and  began  to  moan. 

"  Don't,  Raoul  !  My  husband  !  Don't  look  at  me 
like  that  !  I  will  not  speak  !  I  will  not  even  breathe 
if  you  will  turn  your  eyes  away  !" 

Her  breath  came  draggingly  from  between  her  parched 
lips  with  a  hoarse,  rasping  noise,  as  if  she  were  going 
into  a  fit.  Flecks  of  foam  gathered  at  the  corners  of 
her  mouth,  and  the  muscles  in  her  neck  twitched,  hor- 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ribly  distorting  her  face.  The  Frenchman  had  tort 
ured  her  almost  to  the  limit  of  her  endurance. 

"  Tell  me  how  you  dared  take  such  a  liberty  1"  he 
said,  sternly,  to  break  the  spell. 

Maria  was  so  weakened  by  lack  of  food  and  sleepless 
vigils  and  her  unrequited  passion  that  her  little  remain 
ing  strength  gave  out.  She  sank  to  the  floor,  sobbing 
quietly,  too  worn  out  to  resist  or  even  to  fear  him  as 
usual. 

"  Answer  me  !"  he  said,  not  offering  to  go  to  her  as 
sistance. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  be  in  your  room,"  she  muttered. 

"  To  spy  upon  me  !  To  read  my  letters  !  To  search  out 
my  private  affairs  !"  said  the  Frenchman,  with  a  short 
laugh.  He  was  in  a  more  horrible  fear  of  her,  if  she 
had  only  known  it,  than  ever  she  was  of  him,  for,  secure 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  locked  door,  he  had  left  letters 
from  Lili  lying  in  his  desk,  in  which  she  spoke  confi 
dently  of  the  joy  his  promise  to  return  to  her  had  given. 
The  enormous  sum  of  money  paid  down  for  the  sale  of 
the  "  Lonely  Mollie  "  mine,  and  the  stocks  and  securi 
ties,  were  still  in  Maria's  possession,  for  he  had  con 
sidered  the  time  not  yet  ripe  to  force  the  money  from  her. 
He  had  moments  of  believing  that,  even  in  spite  of  his 
treatment  of  her,  she  could  yet  be  persuaded  into  making 
it  over  to  him  peaceably. 

At  his  accusation  Maria  lifted  her  head. 

"  Indeed,  I  did  not !  How  can  you  believe  such  a  cruel 
thing  ?  Why  should  I  wish  to  spy  upon  you  ?" 

"  How  long  have  you  had  this  key  ?" 

"  Only  three  days." 

Raoul  moved  uneasily.  He  did  not  in  the  least  be 
lieve  her.  He  knew  her  crafty  nature,  and  a  guilty  con 
science  made  him  more  suspicious  than  usual. 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe  that  you  had  that 
duplicate  key  made  for  nothing — for  no  purpose  at 

318 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

all  ?    No,  madame !     Women  like  you  do  not  go  to  that 
trouble  for  a  whim." 

Maria  dragged  herself  up  until  she  supported  herself 
on  her  hands. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you,  who  claim  to  know  women 
so  well,  do  not  yet  understand  your  wife's  heart — for  I 
*-  am  your  wife,  Raoul,  although  I  have  not  a  wife's  priv 
ileges.  The  only  solace  I  had  was  to  go  into  your  room 
in  your  absence,  and  care  for  your  things.  I  was  re 
duced  to  taking  up  the  work  of  a  maid-servant  in  order 
to  touch  your  brushes — to  handle  the  clothes  3701*  had 
worn.  Then  you  found  that  I  disturbed  things,  and 
you  took  that  joy — the  only  one  I  had — away  from  me. 
In  my  desperation  I  tried  to  get  it  back.  That's  all." 

A  heart  of  stone  would  have  melted  under  Maria's 
painful  confession  of  worship  for  even  this  man's  be 
longings,  but  to  Raoul  each  word  drove  his  disgust  of 
her  deeper  into  his  soul.  He  did  not  want — nay,  he 
loathed  her  love  !  If  she  had  hated  and  avoided  him, 
he  would  have  turned  into  her  courteous  cavalier,  and 
they  would  have  lived  amiably  under  the  same  roof, 
and  each  gone  his  and  her  separate  way  in  calm  content. 

"  We  do  not  trust  each  other  as  a  husband  and  wife 
should,"  he  muttered,  to  gain  time. 

The  words  fell  upon  Maria's  ears  with  a  shock  of  joy. 
It  seemed  the  first  step  towards  a  different  basis  of  life. 

*  It  is  you  who  do  not  trust  me,  Raoul !  1  trust  you 
with  everything  I  have  on  earth  !" 

"  In  theory,  yes  !  But  not  in  fact.  You  are  the  rich 
wife — I,  the  poor,  dependent  husband,  having  nothing — 
not  one  sou  in  my  own  right.  It  mortifies  me  so  that  1 
can  think  of  nothing  else.  1  forget  even  to  caress  you  in 
my  humiliation  of  spirit." 

"  Would  you — that  is,  if  I  believed — oh  Raoul,  don't 
look  at  me  that  way  !  You  don't  realize  how  it  frightens 
me!" 

319 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Then  be  careful  how  your  commercial  American 
nature  leads  you  to  make  a  bargain  for  an  emotion 
which  should  rush  forth  from  the  heart  of  its  own  ac 
cord.  My  position  has  been  too  hateful  to  my  pride  for 
me  to  feel  as  1  expected — nay,  hoped  to  feel,  before  our 
marriage." 

"  But  half  of  the  stock  was  yours,  under  the  marriage 
settlements,  and  therefore  half  of  the  money  and  securi 
ties  are  yours  \"  cried  Maria.  "  You  are  at  liberty  to  do 
what  you  wish  with  them." 

"  Bah  !"  cried  the  Frenchman,  contemptuously.  "  That 
shows  how  much  you  know  about  my  affairs  !  Every 
franc  of  that  has  already  gone  to  pay  my  most  pressing 
debts.  I  not  only  have  nothing  left,  but  all  of  my  debts 
are  not  yet  paid.  Your  half  is  all  that  we  have.  I  have 
nothing." 

"  Is  it  on  your  conscience  to  pay  your  other  debts, 
Raoul  ?"  asked  Maria,  eagerly. 

"  No,  those  can  wait,"  he  said,  looking  down  to  hide 
the  glitter  of  eagerness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Raoul !  1  do  not  care  for  myself !  If  you  will 
only  love  me — I  mean,  1  will  make  over  another  sum  to 
you,  so  that  your  pride  need  not  be  hurt  at  receiving  from 
me — God  knows  you  are  welcome  to  it — welcome  to  the 
last  drop  of  my  blood  if  it  would  buy  you  an  hour's 
happiness  !  I  understand  your  fine,  high-strung  nature, 
my  husband  !  Believe  me,  I  know  how  to  love  you. 
We  could  be  so  happy  together  !" 

"  I  can  never  be  happy,"  said  Raoul,  gloomily,  "  as 
long  as  my  wife  has  more  money  than  I." 

He  went  over  to  where  Maria  lay  and  tenderly  lifted 
her  to  her  couch.  In  a  transport  of  gratitude,  and 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  she  seized  his  hand  and 
covered  it  with  kisses.  He  suffered  it  to  rest  against  her 
burning  cheek.  His  glove  protected  him  from  actual 
contact. 

320 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  shall  not  have  more  money  than  you,  my  darling  ! 
I  will  make  over  the  whole  sum  to  you,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  little  for  my  own  private  use — to  buy  presents 
for  my  husband,  perhaps,  without  having  to  ask  him  for 
the  money  !" 

"  If  I  thought  you  meant  what  you  said — "  began 
Raoul. 

Maria  started  up. 

"  I  will  do  it  now  !"  she  said. 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  her,  and,  with  a  cry,  she 
flung  herself  into  them. 

"  Oh,  Raoul  !   Raoul  !"  she  sobbed. 

"  What  is  it,  mouse  ?" 

"  '  Mouse  ! '  That  is  the  name  you  used  to  call  me  be 
fore  we  were  married  !  Oh,  has  it  been  the  hurt  to  your 
dear  pride  about  this  hateful  money  that  has  kept  you 
away  from  me  all  this  time  ?" 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  speak  of  it,"  answered  the  French 
man.  "  I  kept  thinking  that  your  own  exquisite  deli 
cacy,  of  which  I  thought  I  saw  so  many  evidences  before 
we  were  married,  would  suggest  it  to  you.  When  day 
after  day  passed,  and  you  did  not  mention  it,  my  heart 
hardened.  I  grew  cold  and  suspicious." 

Maria's  tears  began  to  flow  afresh.  Raoul  looked 
anxiously  at  the  fine  tucks  in  his  shirt  front,  then  re 
signed  himself. 

"  But  it  is  all  settled  now,  isn't  it  ?  And  we  shall  be 
lovers  again  !" 

"  It  will  be  all  settled  very  soon,  I  hope,"  corrected  the 
Frenchman,  gently.  "  If  you  feel  equal  to  going  out  ?" 
he  added,  tenderly. 

Maria  blushed  with  happiness. 

"  I  feel  perfectly  well  1"  she  averred.     "And  I  would  be 
perfectly  happy  if — if  you  would  kiss  me  !" 
Her  husband  started. 

"  Not  if  you  don't  want  to,"  said  Maria,  humbly. 
x  321 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Not  want  to  !  I  was  only  wondering  if  a  long  caress 
like  this  would  not  do — were  not  better,  I  mean." 

"  No,  1  want  you  to  kiss  me." 

He  bent  and  swept  her  brow  with  his  mustache. 

"  On  my  lips !"  cried  Maria,  passionately,  seizing  his 
arm. 

He  suffered  himself  to  be  kissed  madly  a  dozen  times, 
then,  holding  her  away  from  him,  he  said  : 

"  1  shall  be  waiting  for  you  in  half  an  hour.  Can  you 
be  ready  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  can  !  Oh,  my  dear  husband,  how  happy 
you  have  made  me  !" 

Raoul  smiled. 

Maria  duly  made  over  the  bulk  of  the  sum  she  had  re 
ceived  from  the  sale  of  her  mine.  She  had  the  wit  to 
keep  back  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  herself,  and 
in  the  presence  of  other  persons  her  husband  dared  not 
demur.  But  afterwards  he  persuaded  her  to  make  a 
will  in  his  favor,  leaving  him  this  sum  and  all  the  per 
sonal  property,  including  her  jewels,  which  were  of  great 
value. 

After  this  final  sacrifice  Maria  felt  sure  that  she  had 
now  removed  the  last  shadow  on  her  husband's  happi 
ness,  and  she  was  just  permitting  herself  to  revel  in  her 
future  prospects  of  bliss  when  she  received  a  telegram 
from  Raoul,  saying  : 

"  Suddenly  called  out  of  town  on  important  business. 
Shall  return  in  time  to  sail  on  La  Bourgogne." 

In  a  frenzy  of  anxiety  and  disappointment,  Maria 
made  every  effort  to  discover  his  whereabouts,  but  in 
vain.  She  had  been  out  when  the  telegram  came,  and  in 
the  meantime  his  man  had  packed  Raoul's  belongings 
and  both  had  disappeared  without  a  trace. 

For  the  whole  of  a  miserable  week  the  unfortunate 
woman  heard  nothing  from  her  husband.  She  was 
tortured  by  doubts  of  his  return,  and  she  cursed  her 

322 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

folly  in  making  over  the  property  to  him.  But  these 
periods  of  depression  were  followed  by  thoughts  of  his 
pride,  the  position  he  held  at  home,  and  she  was  com 
forted  by  the  belief  that,  after  all,  he  really  loved  her 
and  would  return. 

La  Bourgogne  was  to  sail  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  up  to  the  night  before  Maria  had  had  no  news  of 
Raoul. 

Nevertheless  she  sent  all  her  luggage  down  to  the 
steamer,  and  proudly  told  her  maid  that  the  marquis 
would  join  her  on  the  pier. 

In  all  this  trouble  and  anxiety,  Maria  had  missed  the 
faithful  Clemence  daily  and  hourly,  but  the  comtesse 
had  strongly  cautioned  her  brother  against  permitting 
the  shrewd  old  woman  to  accompany  her  mistress  to 
America. 

"  She  is  too  clever  by  half,  Raoul,"  the  comtesse  had 
said,  "  and  by  far  too  sincerely  devoted  to  Maria's  in 
terests.  She  is  Maria's  confidante,  and  would  be  likely  to 
thwart  your  plans  when  you  were  on  the  eve  of  success." 

Accordingly,  the  comtesse  had  given  Maria  her  own 
maid,  a  thoroughly  unscrupulous  French  girl,  who 
spied  upon  Maria  and  betrayed  her  into  her  husband's 
hands  with  malicious  delight. 

Fifine  heartily  agreed  with  Maria  that  the  marquis 
would  sail  with  them,  for  in  the  few  hours  that  the  dupli 
cate  key  had  been  in  her  possession  she  had  read  all  of 
Lili's  letters,  and  she  knew  that  even  Maria's  fortune 
would  be  useless  to  the  Parisian  unless  he  could  return 
to  the  boulevards. 

Nevertheless  it  satisfied  her  cruel  nature  to  maintain 
a  suspicious  silence  when  Maria  declared  her  belief  that 
her  husband  would  return,  and  that  there  had  been  some 
mistake  about  the  letters.  And  when  Maria  really 
found  him  waiting  for  her,  as  she  had  predicted,  her 
sole  comment  to  Fifine  was  : 

323 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  I  knew  that  he  loved  me  !" 

He  sprang  to  hand  her  from  her  carriage  with  such 
an  air  of  devotion  that  Maria  bridled  and  cleared  her 
throat  with  such  unctuous  persistence  that  the  nervous 
man  at  her  side  finally  turned  on  her  and  hissed  : 

"  Stop  making  that  infernal  noise  if  you  don't  want 
me  to  kill  you  !" 

Maria  started  and  looked  at  him  in  terror.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  ever  spoken  roughly  to  her.  She  met  a 
look  in  his  eyes  of  such  fierce  hatred  that  for  the  first 
time  it  dawned  upon  her  that  nothing  that  had  hap 
pened  since  her  marriage  was  an  accident.  An  icy 
hand  seemed  to  clutch  at  her  heart.  What  if  the  future 
held  no  hope  ? 

Their  state-rooms  were  four  in  all,  but  of  these  only 
Raoul's  was  on  the  promenade  deck  The  other  three 
were  on  the  deck  below. 

They  simply  looked  at  each  other,  this  husband  and 
wife,  when  they  saw  this  arrangement.  Maria  dropped 
her  eyes  first.  She  was  beginning  to  understand.  She 
went  down  to  her  state-room,  filled  with  flowers  sent  by 
her  husband,  and,  entering,  closed  the  door,  nor  did  she 
emerge  until  the  ship  had  been  several  hours  at  sea. 
Through  all  the  excitement  of  sailing,  of  the  interest  of 
the  shipping  in  the  harbor,  of  the  thought  of  a  last  view 
of  America,  Maria  lay  in  her  berth  with  her  face  to  the 
wall,  wondering,  thinking,  remembering,  unravelling 
matters  and  piecing  events  together  until  she  brought 
herself  face  to  face  with  a  resolve.  She  would  seek  an 
explanation  with  Raoul.  This  sickening  suspense  was 
killing  her. 

Although  it  was  long  after  midnight,  she  slipped  on 
a  dressing-gown  and  went  up  to  her  husband's  room. 
No  one  was  there,  not  even  his  man.  Raoul's  things 
were  all  unpacked,  his  tortoise-shell  brushes,  inlaid 
with  silver,  his  bath-robe,  his  steamer-coat,  lined  with 

324 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

sable,  his  shirts,  ties,  and  handkerchiefs.  The  wom 
an's  eyes  roved  hungrily  over  her  husband's  belong 
ings.  The  smell  of  a  cigarette  was  still  in  the  air.  She 
seized  the  pink  wadded  dressing-gown  he  had  evidently 
just  flung  off,  and  buried  her  face  in  it,  kissing  the  neck 
of  it,  where  it  had  touched  his  flesh,  and  inhaling  its 
sweetness  with  dry,  gasping  sobs.  Her  hands  caressed 
its  soft  folds  as  if  it  were  Raoul  she  embraced,  until  she 
heard  the  crackle  of  a  letter  in  the  inner  pocket.  She 
drew  it  out.  It  was  in  French.  She  turned  it  over, 
and  the  signature,  "  Lili,"  cured  her  passion  as  suddenly 
as  if  she  had  been  turned  to  stone.  She  took  it  closer 
to  the  light  and  read  it  deliberately.  While  she  was 
reading  it  her  husband  entered,  so  quietly  that  it  did 
not  disturb  her.  He  sat  down  behind  her  and  watched 
her,  knowing  quite  well  what  letter  she  was  reading 
and  from  whom. 

Finally  he  scratched  a  match,  and  Maria  turned  with 
a  scream.  Raoul's  hand  did  not  even  tremble  as  he 
sheltered  the  flame  and  lighted  his  cigarette.  The  glit 
ter  of  his  eyes  as  the  match  flared  twice  under  the  proc 
ess  fixed  Maria  with  a  cold  horror  as  if  she  saw  a  ghost. 
Her  jaw  dropped,  and  she  stared  at  him,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot.  She  did  not  doubt  that  he  would  kill  her. 
She  only  wondered  how  he  would  do  it. 

Raoul  flung  down  the  match  and  leaned  his  head 
back,  watching  the  smoke  float  lazily  upward. 

"  She  writes  a  clever  letter,  doesn't  she  ?"  he  said. 

The  paper  crackled  under  the  nervous  tightening  of 
Maria's  hand.  He  had  broken  the  spell.  Her  fierce 
jealousy  caused  her  to  forget  her  fear  of  him.  Under  its 
influence  Maria  was  always  half  insane. 

"  How  dared  she  write  such  a  letter  to  you  ?"  she  cried. 
"  How  dare  you  receive  it !" 

Raoul  sat  up  and  began  to  enjoy  himself.  This  was 
the  opportunity  for  a  final  explanation — a  complete  un- 

325 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

derstanding.  He  exulted  fiercely  in  his  heart  that  it 
had  come  so  soon. 

Maria's  "  damnable  conceit,"  as  he  termed  it,  in  pre 
suming  to  think  that  he  loved  her,  could  love  her,  or 
ever  had  loved  her,  had  got  on  his  nerves  to  the  extent 
that  (now  that  she  had  made  the  final  settlements)  his 
ruling  passion,  which  had  increased  and  grown  bitter 
day  by  day  and  hour  by  hour,  was  to  tell  her  how  he 
hated  her,  to  prove  it  to  her  beyond  a  doubt,  to  drive  the 
iron  into  her  miserable  soul,  twist  it  round  and  round, 
and  then  leave  it  there  to  rust  and  poison,  and  finally — 
God  knew  how  he  hoped — to  kill  ! 

To  the  supersensitive  Frenchman  good  taste  was  his 
god.  To  be  a  connoisseur,  an  epicure,  to  know  what 
and  how  and  when  to  select — all  these  were  in  his  blood. 
His  mother  had  half  wrecked  her  life  to  own  the  tapes 
tries.  In  Raoul  this  trait  took  another  turn.  The  bit 
terest  taste  in  the  whole  nauseous  dose  of  his  marriage 
with  the  unspeakable  American  was  the  fear  that  some 
of  her  friends  would  share  Maria's  hallucination  that 
he  loved  her.  If  every  one  could  have  known  his  suf 
ferings,  it  would  have  removed  their  most  poignant 
stings.  He  was  safe  in  the  hands  of  his  own  kind. 
The  French  knew  and  laughed.  But  his  vanity  was  so 
small  that  he  feared  the  opinion  of  even  the  despised 
Americans.  He  was  constantly  wondering  if  this  or 
that  woman  believed  Maria's  fatuous  statements.  He 
determined,  now  that  the  battle  was  on,  to  make  the 
breach  so  wide  that  no  bridge  could  ever  cross  it.  The 
separation,  while  not  legal,  could  at  least  be  made  public. 

"  I  have  received  many  such  letters,  and  written  replies 
to  each  one,"  he  said,  deliberately.  "We  love  each 
other — she  and  I." 

Maria  could  hardly  believe  the  evidence  of  her  own 
senses.  She  had  lived  too  long  in  Europe  not  to  know 
the  full  import  of  that  statement.  She  staggered  back 

326 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

against  the  wall  and  drew  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  At 
the  sight  of  that  little  thin  claw  Raoul's  own  mutilation 
darted  across  his  brain,  adding  fresh  poison. 

"  Then  why  did  you  marry  me  ?"  she  asked,  stupidly. 

With  a  horrible  laugh  the  Frenchman  sprang  up. 

"  Did  you  think  I  loved  you  ?  You  ?"  he  cried.  "  Good 
God !  Turn  and  look  at  yourself  in  that  mirror.  Look  I" 

He  spun  her  around  by  the  shoulder  and  turned  011 
more  light. 

"  Look  at  your  eyes,  your  hair,  your  skin  —  and,  oh 
God !  your  shape !  Each  more  hideous  than  the  other  1 
Have  you  ever  understood  your  own  ugliness  ?  And 
yet  you  dare  to  call  yourself  a  woman — that  most  ex 
quisite  piece  of  Nature's  handiwork  !  You  call  your 
self  a  human  being  of  the  same  gender  of  my  Lili !  You 
ape  !  How  dare  you  ?" 

Maria  only  stared  at  him,  too  terror-stricken  to  answer 
or  defend  herself. 

"  See,  see  what  I  call  a  woman  !"  hissed  the  French 
man,  taking  out  a  porcelain.  "  There  is  the  woman  I 
worship !  Look  at  those  lips  and  the  fresh  warm  tints 
of  her  delicious  flesh !  See  how  that  breast  seems  to  glow 
and  palpitate  even  in  this  cold  presentment  of  her  !  See 
how  those  eyes  mock  and  those  lips  invite !  Imagine  my 
head  resting  on  that  breast  and  those  warm  arms  around 
me  in  love,  and  then  look  at  the  thing  I  have  married ! 
Look  !  Look  at  the  two  of  you,  side  by  side  !  And  yet 
you  have  dared  to  believe  that  I  loved  you  I  Faugh ! 
The  mere  thought  of  you  makes  me  long  to  kill  myself  !" 

If  he  had  used  more  deliberation,  Maria,  in  her  jeal 
ousy,  would  have  turned  and  fought  him  with  every 
word-weapon  at  her  command.  But  this  furious  torrent 
of  abuse  congested  her  brain.  She  heard  every  word, 
but  she  was  deadened  by  the  force  and  succession  of  the 
blows.  She  picked  at  her  gown  and  tried  to  think. 

"  You  have  got  all  my  money,"  she  said,  quietly. 

327 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  God  and  your  stupidity.  What  a  fool 
you  were  to  give  it  to  me  !" 

"  I  love  you,  that's  why,"  said  the  woman. 

The  Frenchman  came  nearer  and  laid  his  hand  on 
her  arm. 

"  Yes,  you  love  me,  and  I  hate  you  for  it.  When  you 
hate  and  avoid  me,  then  we  can  be  friends  !  We  shall 
live  under  the  same  roof,  but  there  shall  never  be  any 
marriage  between  us.  I  have  promised  Lili  that." 

A  momentary  gleam  of  hate  came  into  Maria's  dull 
eyes.  But  it  faded  away.  Then  she  said  : 

"  Then  the  title  will  die  out  with  you." 

"How  can  I  help  that!"  he  cried,  violently.  "Who 
would  care  to  inherit  an  empty  title,  with  nothing  to 
keep  it  up  on  ?  No,  my  friend.  I  changed  my  mind 
upon  that  subject  of  children  when  your  father  prac 
tically  disinherited  you.  Your  money  will  not  last  me 
many  years.  After  that  goes — " 

"After  that  goes — "  repeated  Maria 

The  Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  I  need  only  to  see  five  years  ahead  in 
order  to  be  happy.  A  change  of  fortune — perhaps  your 
death  and  more  money  by  another  marriage." 

"  You  will  not  divorce  me,  then  ?"  said  Maria. 

"  No.  My  friends  would  criticise  me  if  I  did.  It 
would  be  bad  taste  for  a  Frenchman  to  divorce  a  woman 
who  had  enriched  him." 

"  I  can  make  another  will  and  leave  the  little  I  have 
kept  for  myself  away  from  you,"  she  said,  narrowing  her 
eyes  at  him  shrewdly. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  friend.  You  can  do  nothing  of  the 
sort." 

He  hesitated  before  finishing,  and  said : 

"  To  whom  would  you  leave  it  ?  To  Rose,  your  beauti 
ful,  tall  sister,  whom  I  asked  to  marry  me  first  and  who 
refused  me  with  such  decision  that  it  left  me  no  alterna- 

328 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

tive  but  your  hideous  self,  or  to  Shirley  and  the  clever 
little  cat  who  will  be  his  wife,  who  hates  me  with  such 
delicious  force  !". 

"  To  neither  1"  cried  Maria,  with  a  trace  of  her  old 
spirit.  "  I  meant  to  charity — or  to  your  sister  !" 

Raoul  breathed  freely.  If  she  had  said  to  the  Church, 
he  would  have  winced,  but  Maria  had  been  a  Roman 
Catholic  too  short  a  time  to  understand  the  power  of 
the  Church. 

"  If  you  gave  it  to  my  sister,  she  would  give  it  to  me. 
If  you  tried  to  give  it  to  charity — have  you  ever  seen  an 
American  attempt  to  wrest  anything  from  French  law  ? 
Try  it  some  time  and  see  1  Think,  too,  that  now,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law,  you  are  a  Frenchwoman,  and  investigate 
what  rights  a  married  woman  has  over  her  property  ! 
It  will  open  your  eyes  a  little  !  Your  property  goes  to 
your  husband's  family — not  even  back  to  your  own. 
But  by  your  courtesy" — he  tapped  the  oilskin  belt  in 
which  were  her  will  and  his  valuable  papers — "  you 
have  saved  time,  trouble,  and  expense  by  willing  every 
thing  to  me.  A  thousand  thanks,  my  friend !" 

He  bent  and  swept  Maria's  hand  with  his  mustache. 
He  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  malicious  joy.  Not  since  his 
marriage  had  he  been  so  happy.  His  agile  brain  took 
in  every  smallest  detail  of  the  setting  of  the  scene.  He 
revelled  in  the  thought  that  he  was  the  principal  actor  in 
the  farce.  He  could  almost  see  the  footlights  and  hear 
the  applause  which  would  billow  across  the  orchestra 
when  the  curtain  went  down.  This  theatrical  sub- 
consciousness  is  what  stages  the  Frenchman — nay,  the 
whole  French  nation — for  self-poised  nations  to  gape 
and  wonder  and  shrug  at.  The  Frenchman  always 
acts  to  the  gallery.  Its  shrill  whistles  of  approval  are 
sweet  music  to  his  ear. 

At  his  touch  Maria  quivered  and  her  half-dazed  senses 
came  to  life.  Slowly  her  mind  crept  backward  through 

329 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  benumbing  moments.  How  did  it  all  begin  ?  Ah  ! 
Lili !  And  he  loved  her  ! 

The  eyes  of  the  beautiful  Alsacian  looked  into  the 
dull  eyes  of  the  wife  with  mocking  cruelty.  Maria  drew 
nearer  to  the  porcelain.  Raoul  unconsciously  moved  as 
if  in  its  defence.  He  feared  that  Maria  would  destroy  it. 

"  I  shall  not  break  it,"  she  said,  taking  it  in  her  two 
hands  and  studying  it  jealously. 

"  You  used  to  tell  me  that  I  was  beautiful,"  she  said, 
bridling.  "  I  do  not  see  that  she  is  so  very  much  better 
looking  !" 

The  Frenchman  leaped  towards  her.  Would  she  never 
understand?  Could  he  not  make  her  see  her  hideous- 
ness — admit  it — believe  it  ? 

"  They  were  all  lies  I  told  you  !  I  hated  you  from  the 
moment  I  saw  you  at  Vrianault.  Eugenie  will  show 
you  all  the  letters  I  wrote  about  you  while  I  was  in 
America  investigating  your  father's  wealth.  I  ridi 
culed  you  with  all  the  force  of  my  nature.  Eugenie 
knows  and  agrees  with  me !  She  hates  you,  too  !  Your 
conceit  is  unbearable." 

Maria's  face  paled  a  little  at  the  idea  that  her  one 
beautiful  and  perfect  French  friendship  had  been  built 
on  sand.  Then  she  drew  herself  up.  Raoul's  vehe 
mence  had  restored  her  balance.  It  was  only  his  dig 
nity  and  silence  which  had  awed  and  frightened  her. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it  !"  she  answered,  proudly.  "  Your 
sister  admires  me  !  I  know  she  does  !  You  are  just 
trying  to  hurt  my  feelings  because  you  are  angry." 

She  thrust  out  her  poor  thin  chest  and  drew  her  Jap 
anese  dressing-gown  around  her.  Her  shrunken  arms 
looked  like  brown  sticks  as  they  emerged  from  those 
trying  sleeves. 

"  I  shall  leave  you,"  she  announced,  "  until  you  are 
calm." 

The  Frenchman  tottered  to  the  bed  and  leaned  on  his 

330 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

hands  watching  the  jerky  steps  of  his  wife  as  she  made 
her  way  in  dignity  to  her  own  room. 

Then  he  sank  down  in  a  disorganized  heap,  and  the 
victory  went  with  Maria. 

How  long  he  lay  there  he  never  knew.  His  man 
came  to  put  him  to  bed,  but  he  answered  him  "  Not  yet  !" 
and  he  was  left  alone  again.  The  mournful  cry  of  the 
fog-horn  finally  aroused  him.  He  shivered  and  looked 
at  his  watch.  It  was  four  o'clock.  He  stood  debating 
whether  to  go  to  bed  for  the  remainder  of  the  night  or  to 
go  on  deck.  He  was  in  great  terror  of  the  sea,  and  fogs 
filled  his  nervous  soul  with  untold  anxieties.  The  creak 
ing  in  the  waist  of  the  ship  as  the  ocean  greyhound 
ploughed  her  way  through  the  waves  and  mist  grew 
less  pronounced.  Evidently  the  speed  was  slackening. 
The  mournful  call  of  the  fog-horn  grew  more  frequent. 
It  moaned  out  a  warning  to  other  ships,  "  Beware  ! 
Beware  !"  The  creaking  sometimes  ceased  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  Raoul  listened  in  terror  for  the  pounding  of  the 
engines.  They  came  with  monotonous  regularity,  as 
suring  him  that  the  great  ship  had  not  stopped. 

Oh,  the  terror  of  it,  when  the  ships'  noises  die  in  the 
night  and  one's  heart  and  the  engines  cease  beating  at 
the  same  time  ! 

Finally  Raoul  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  slid  into 
his  sable-lined  coat,  Maria's  last  gift,  and  went  on  deck. 
There  was  a  dense  fog — a  wet,  gray  fog,  with  a  smell 
of  the  salt  sea  in  it.  Raoul  shivered  even  in  his  furs  as 
he  paced  the  deck.  The  fog  condensed  in  drops  on  his 
mustache  and  dripped  from  the  brim  of  his  cap  on  his 
cheeks  like  tears.  The  fog-horn  sounded  continually. 
He  imagined  that  he  saw  ghostly  shapes  of  tall  ships 
sailing  by  in  wreaths  of  mist.  He  fancied  he  heard 
other  fog-horns  answering  La  Bourgogne. 

Suddenly  he  started.  Another  fog-horn  was  answer 
ing.  He  turned  cold  and  his  teeth  chattered.  Again  it 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

came.  He  heard  hurried  steps  on  the  bridge  above,  and 
the  captain  shouted  a  hoarse  order,  which  Raoul  did  not 
understand. 

Whatever  that  order  was,  it  came  too  late,  for  within 
five  minutes  of  the  time  the  stranger's  fog-horn  was 
heard,  a  giant  black  shape  crashed  into  La  Bourgogne 
amidships,  tearing  its  way  into  the  big  steamer's  heart, 
and  then  backed  away  again  into  the  darkness  like  a 
shadow. 

A  grinding,  roaring,  splintering  noise  filled  the  air. 
There  was  the  hiss  of  escaping  steam,  smoke  from  the 
disabled  engines,  the  scraping  of  steel  plates  wrenched 
from  their  sockets,  the  pounding  of  loosened  piston- 
rods,  the  angry  roar  and  swish  of  the  green  water  as  it 
poured  into  the  horrid  rent  in  the  steamer's  side,  but, 
above  all,  the  screams  and  groans  and  prayers  of  the 
terrified  passengers  as  they  poured  up  the  companion- 
way  from  the  first  cabin — the  second  cabin  trampling 
them  down,  and  the  steerage  plunging  headlong  through 
and  over  all.  . 

In  an  instant  it  was  pandemonium — a  glimpse  into 
hell  itself. 

At  the  first  crash,  with  a  shriek  of  terror,  the  French 
men  flew  for  the  life-boats.  The  crew  poured  up  from 
the  hold,  a  filthy,  blackened,  evil-looking  set.  Women 
half-clad,  carrying  babies  and  with  children  clinging 
to  their  skirts,  rushed  in  terror  from  their  state-rooms 
on  the  deck  below. 

Raoul  with  his  gloved  hands  could  do  nothing  towards 
launching  the  life-boat,  but  he  kept  near  four  of  the  crew 
who  were  freely  cursing  the  passengers  and  swearing 
that  they  were  going  to  save  themselves  first. 

He  was  madly  tying  on  his  life-preserver  when  a  lady 
said  to  him  : 

"  Oh,  sir,  will  you  help  me  get  these  onto  my  chil 
dren  ?  1  have  three  !" 

332 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  strings  of  Raoul's  were  rotten  and  broke  off  short. 
With  an  oath  he  seized  the  ten-year-old  child  of  the  lady, 
who  was  feverishly  wrapping  up  her  two  youngest  and 
preparing  them  for  the  awful  plunge. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir  !"  she  found  time  to  murmur. 

With  a  short  laugh  Raoul  tore  off  the  child's  life-pre 
server  and  fastened  it  on  himself.  The  mother  looked 
at  him  in  terror. 

"  Oh,  God  1"  she  cried.     "  Can  1  believe  my  own  eyes  ?" 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  forget  her  children's 
peril  in  her  astonishment.  Then  she  huddled  the  two 
smaller  ones  into  the  arms  of  the  boy  and  said  : 

"  Stay  here,  just  like  that,  without  moving,  until 
mamma  runs  back  for  another  life-preserver.  Remem 
ber,  Jack  !  You  are  mother's  man,  and  must  stand  by 
the  babies !" 

The  boy  swallowed  hard,  and  planted  his  sturdy  legs 
well  apart  to  keep  his  balance,  watching  his  mother  as 
she  flew,  as  if  on  wings,  back  to  her  cabin. 

The  four  Frenchmen  who  were  launching  the  boat 
saw  Raoul's  act,  and  it  suited  their  humor.  They  nod 
ded  to  him  to  come  with  them,  and  he  sprang  first  into 
the  life-boat.  Just  as  they  were  about  to  cut  the  ropes 
the  woman  darted  back,  and,  seizing  her  children,  she 
cried  to  Jack  to  climb  into  the  boat.  The  boy  obeyed. 
They  were  Americans  They  could  not  understand. 
There  was  a  blow,  and  the  child  fell  back  against  his 
mother — dead.  In  the  crowd,  no  one  noticed,  no  one 
saw.  But  the  mother,  with  a  shriek  which  rose  above 
all  the  cries  of  terror  and  horrible  noises  of  a  sinking 
ship,  knelt  down  by  her  boy,  holding  his  little  dead  face 
against  her  own.  An  Englishman  seized  her  in  his 
arms. 

"  Give  me  the  children,  madam,  and  come  to  this  boat. 
They  will  lower  this  one  next." 

He  put  them  in,  the  mother  staggering  under  the 

333 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

weight  of  her  dead  child,  but,  in  spite  of  his  efforts,  more 
members  of  the  crew,  including  the  very  waiter  who  had 
served  her  at  the  table,  flung  the  passengers  out  of  the 
life-boat,  launched  it,  and  the  two  boat-loads  pulled  away 
amid  English  curses  and  imprecations. 

At  the  first  shock,  Maria  sprang  out  of  bed  and  ran 
up  to  her  husband's  room.  No  one  was  there.  She 
ran  on  deck  just  in  time  to  see  the  first  boat-load,  con 
taining  her  husband,  pull  away  from  the  ship's  side. 

"  Raoul  !  Raoul  !"  she  screamed. 

He  looked  up  and  imagined  he  saw  her.  He  was 
certain  he  heard  his  name  called. 

"  Is  the  steamer  sure  to  sink  ?"  he  asked  of  the  crew. 

"  It  is  only  a  question  of  minutes,"  said  one  of  the  en 
gineers.  "  She  is  almost  cut  in  two,  and  her  fires  went 
out  half  a  second  after  she  was  struck." 

They  rowed  away  into  the  fog,  and  were  lost  to  view 
by  the  unfortunates  on  deck. 

As  Maria  turned  away  with  a  scream  of,  "  My  hus 
band  !  He  has  saved  himself  and  left  me,"  an  Amer 
ican,  who  was  running  by  with  two  life-preservers, 
stopped  short,  even  in  that  terrible  moment,  paralyzed 
by  such  a  cry. 

"  Your  husband  has  saved  himself  and  left  you  ?"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  sobbed  Maria.     "  I  am  the  Marquise  d' Auteuil. " 

"  There  is  a  raft  launched  on  this  side.  See,  you  can 
reach  it  by  this  rope.  Do  you  dare  ?  It  is  certain  death 
to  remain  here  any  longer.  Look,  the  ship  is  turning 
now  !" 

"  I  don't  dare  !"  screamed  Maria. 

The  man  drew  on  dog-skin  gloves  and  sprang  over  the 
gunwale. 

"  Climb  up  here  and  hold  around  my  waist — not  my 
neck — you'd  strangle  me.  Now,  then,  hold  on  tight, 
for  we  are  going  down  this  rope." 

334 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Maria  did  as  she  was  bidden,  and  in  an  instant  they 
were  in  the  water.  Oh,  the  coldness,  the  iciness  of  that 
freezing  water  ! .  The  terror  of  the  dark,  and  the  horror 
of  the  fog  which  shut  off  the  sight  and  made  the  horror 
and  the  terror  worse  ! 

The  Englishman  saw  the  American  go  down  the  rope, 
and  in  a  moment  he  had  marshalled  his  little  group, 
which  now  included  five  women.  He  bound  their  hands 
with  strips  of  woollen  torn  from  his  great  coat,  their  dress 
es,  anything  thick,  and  launched  each  one  carefully. 
There  were  seven  floating  in  life-preserver^  and  holding 
to  that  one  rope.  The  American  swam  to  the  raft  and 
got  on.  A  Frenchman  flung  him  off.  He  clambered 
on  again,  and  was  again  thrown  off.  He  floated  a  mo 
ment,  dazed  by  a  cut  over  the  eye  from  a  boat-hook,  and 
when  he  opened  his  eyes  he  saw  that  the  women  were 
struggling  for  a  place  on  the  raft.  Then  a  French 
sailor  in  the  uniform  of  La  Bourgogne  deliberately  cut 
the  rope  to  which  they  were  clinging,  while  others,  with 
oars,  held  the  struggling  women,  one  after  another, 
under  the  water  until  they  drowned  and  floated  silently 
away. 

When  Maria  saw  the  first  woman  struck  she  loosened 
her  hold  of  the  rope  and  gave  herself  up  for  dead. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  loud  splash  near  her  in  the 
darkness  as  of  an  object  thrown  violently  into  the  water 
from  a  great  height.  Then  came  a  steadily  moving 
object,  borne  nearer  and  nearer,  as  if  on  the  strokes  6f 
a  mighty  swimmer.  Voices  and  cries  came  more  faintly 
to  her  ears.  Either  she  was  moving  away  from  the 
steamer  or  she  was  losing  consciousness.  Then  she 
felt  herself  half  lifted  on  one  arm  and  borne  on  by  slow, 
laborious  strokes.  The  swimmer's  heavy  breathing 
became  more  and  more  stertorous. 

A  horrible,  unearthly,  hissing  noise,  as  of  a  huge  ob 
ject  being  sucked  down,  partially  revived  her.  A  gi- 

335 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

gantic  whirlpool  began  to  draw  them  around  in  great 
circles.  The  swimmer  gave  a  groan  and  shook  her. 

"  Exert  yourself  !"  he  panted.  "  Here  is  a  boat.  Can 
you  get  your  hands  up  there  !  *  Help,  men  !  Pull  this 
woman  aboard  !" 

Half  a  dozen  faces  peered  over  the  side  of  the  life-boat, 
to  whose  gunwale  Maria's  little  brown  claws  clung 
tenaciously.  Her  strength  came  back  with  the  hope  of 
life.'  She  looked  up,  and  one  of  the  faces  peering  down 
into  hers  was  the  face  of  her  husband. 

"  Raoul  !"  she  gasped. 

The  man  drew  back  in  horror.  He  looked  at  the 
bony,  shriveled  hands  clutching  the  boat  in  a  death- 
grip,  and  from  them  down  to  his  own,  maimed  forever. 
He  had  thought  Maria  doomed. 

"  Look  !"  he  said  to  the  man  next  him,  who  held  a 
boat-hook  which  had  fresh  blood-stains  upon  it.  "  That 
woman  may  sink  us  !" 

There  was  a  blow — a  scream — bubbles  on  the  water. 

Raoul  turned  away  his  head.  He  disliked  to  witness 
pain. 

The  strong  swimmer,  the  Englishman,  who  was  swim 
ming  slowly  after  the  boat,  conserving  his  strength, 
saw  and  gnashed  his  teeth.  The  boat,  feeling  itself 
being  dragged  into  the  eddy  made  by  the  sudden  sinking 
of  the  steamer,  pulled  rapidly  away.  He  swam  after  it, 
holding  to  a  piece  of  wreckage  which  floated  past.  It 
was  a  help. 

Suddenly  he  heard  voices — English  voices.  He 
quickened  his  strokes  and  found  a  capsized  boat,  which 
two  men  were  trying  to  right.  They  finally  managed  it 
between  them,  and  without  an  oar,  and  no  prospects  ex 
cept  to  drift,  they  set  themselves  to  rescue  others.  Their 
shouts  drew  one — two — three  half-fainting  swimmers, 
one  of  whom  held  Maria,  unconscious  but  still  alive. 

They  drifted  thus  for  an  hour  before  they  noticed  that 

336 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  boat  was  filling  with  water,  which  could  not  all  have 
come  from  their  dripping  clothes.  The  Englishman 
made  an  examination.  There  was  a  leak,  a  bad  one, 
and  nothing,  not  even  a  hat,  to  bail  with.  The  fog  was 
lifting  a  little,  but  as  yet  there  was  no  sign  of  rescue. 

"  Surely  the  ship  that  ran  us  down  will  lie  to,"  said  the 
Englishman. 

"  Unless  she  also  went  down,"  suggested  another. 

They  heard  a  faint  cry,  and  they  shouted — encourage 
ment,  if  it  were  a  swimmer — hopefully,  if  it  meant  rescue. 

One  of  the  ship's  stokers  swam  alongside,  his  swarthy 
low  brow  and  close-set  eyes  making  his  face  repulsive 
and  cruel. 

"  They  won't  have  me  on  the  other  boats,"  he  panted 
in  French.  "  For  God's  sake,  take  me  on  here  !" 

"  We  are  sinking,  ourselves,"  said  the  Englishman. 
*  It  would  swamp  us  sooner  if  you  came  aboard.  Can't 
you  keep  up  by  the  tiller  ropes  ?" 

Then  across  the  water  came  clearly  to  their  ears  the 
fog-horn  of  the  Cromarty shire. 

With  a  hideous  oath  the  man  shook  the  boat  sav 
agely.  She  shipped  water  and  settled  more. 

"  For  God's  sake,  man,  you  are  sinking  us  within 
sound  of  help  !  We  won't  desert  you,  but  if  you  climb 
aboard  we  are  lost !" 

"  Devils  !  Like  the  others  !"  he  shouted,  leaping  out 
of  the  water.  The  boat  rolled  once — righted  herself — 
rolled  again,  and  then  floated  bottom  upwards.  The 
men  could  have  saved  themselves,  but  there  were  four 
women  and  so — 

Just  then  the  fog  lifted  and  r.way  on  the  horizon  loomed 
the  gaunt  shape  of  the  Cromarty  shire,  floating  on  her 
collision  bulkhead,  while  against  her  black  sides,  like 
little  brown  specks,  could  be  seen  the  eager  movements 
of  the  rescuing  crew. 

Y  337 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

FOR  weeks  after  the  tragedy  of  the  Maine  not  a  day 
passed  that  Rose  did  not  go  to  the  embassy  to  beg  news 
of  the  ambassador.  Each  day  the  war  cloud  in  America 
grew  bigger  and  the  Continental  press  grew  more  bitter 
in  its  strictures  on  America.  Paris  journals  were  the 
most  savage,  the  most  denunciatory  of  all.  They 
openly  sympathized  with  Spain,  and  Americans  in  Paris 
began  to  notice  that  they  were  regarded  with  black  looks 
by  certain  portions  of  the  excitable  Paris  populace. 

The  first  open  demonstration  came  on  the  day  when 
the  Duchesse  de  Fleury  held  a  bazar  to  raise  money  for 
the  Spanish  troops.  It  was  enthusiastically  attended, 
and  on  that  day  more  than  one  inoffensive  American 
woman  was  greeted  in  the  streets  of  Paris  by  the  epithet 
"  Rastoquouere !" 

To  Mrs.  Sharp's  horror  none  were  more  eager  in  their 
efforts  to  make  the  affair  a  success  than  Lulu  and  Fran- 
cine  de  Fleury. 

"  I  can't  understand  the  base  ingratitude  of  those 
wretched  little  creatures,"  she  said  to  Rose,  who  was 
calling  with  the  Baronne  Valencia.  "  They  were  always 
so  ready  to  denounce  Spain  and  praise  America,  and 
now  see  what  they  have  done  for  this  bazar  !  I  cannot 
fathom  such  duplicity  1" 

"  Then  you  will  never  understand  Parisians,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Sharp,"  said  the  baronne.  "  But,  after  all,  I  ques 
tion  whether  it  is  duplicity.  The  French  simph7  have  no 
solid  foundation  of  common -sense  in  their  make-up. 

333 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Their  brains  are  like  straw.  Touch  the  match  of  senti 
ment  or  superstition  to  them,  and  they  are  ablaze  in  a 
moment." 

"  I  can't  understand  them,"  repeated  poor  Mrs.  Sharp, 
making  a  grab  for  a  moth  miller  which  flew  before  her 
eye.  "  Such  sweet,  modest,  sincere  little  girls  as  they 
seemed  to  me  !" 

Rose  laughed. 

"  Tell  her  what  you  were  just  telling  me,"  said  Lida 
Schermerhorn,  who,  with  Mrs.  Gregory,  had  just  come 
in. 

"  Why,"  said  the  baronne,  "  I  think  I  would  hardly 
call  them  all  that.  I  took  them  down  to  Bellemaison 
last  summer  with  my  two  lx>ys  and  three  or  four  other 
people,  intending  to  keep  them  there  a  fortnight.  But 
on  the  very  first  day  I  had  them  out  in  the  break,  and  we 
were  driving  along  the  river-bank,  when  suddenly  we 
came  upon  my  two  boys  and  a  young  Frenchman  in 
swimming.  I  turned  my  attention  to  the  view  of  the 
opposite  meadows,  but  the  sharp  eyes  of  those  young 
girls  had  spied  the  boys.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell  it — in  other  words,  in  a  jiffy — they  had  hopped  out  of 
the  break,  and  had  run  screaming  and  laughing  down 
the  bank,  tearing  off  their  clothes  as  they  ran.  I  was  too 
horrified  to  go  after  them.  I  called,  but  they  paid  no 
attention.  They  kicked  off  their  shoes,  and  with  noth 
ing  on  but  their  little  thin  chemises  they  plunged  into  the 
water  like  frolicsome  children.  But  my  two  poor  boys, 
when  they  saw  them  coming,  suddenly  became  hideously 
aware  of  their  shocking  little  bathing-trunks  and  of  the 
eyes  of  their  American  mother  on  the  bank,  for  they  took 
to  deep  water  like  frightened  seals,  the  girls  swimming 
after  them  in  mad  pursuit.  Finally  Lulu  caught  my 
oldest  boy,  who  afterwards  told  me  that  he  let  himself 
be  caught  because  the  current  was  getting  too  swift  for  a 
girl  !  The  current  got  too  swift  for  me  that  night ;  my 

339 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

party  was  demoralized — went  mad  as  it  were  —  so  I 
packed  those  girls  back  to  Paris  the  next  day,  much  to 
their  disgust." 

"  Are  those  typical  French  girls  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Sharp, 
with  a  red  face. 

"  Yes  and  no.  They  are  typical  of  young  Parisiennes 
without  restraint,  I  think.  Few  French  girls  could  be 
trusted  without  surveillance." 

"  When  my  mother  put  me  into  school  in  Paris,"  said 
Miss  Schermerhorn,  "  they  made  a  great  fuss  about  the 
havoc  an  American  girl  would  create  among  innocent 
young  French  girls,  who  knew  nothing  of  men.  They 
said  that  the  American  girl  always  created  for  herself 
the  atmosphere  of  men.  So  they  made  mamma  pay 
extra  because  I  was  an  American,  and  they  made  me 
swear  not  to  speak  about  men  to  any  pupil  there  under 
pain  of  dismissal.  Well,  I  hadn't  been  there  six  hours 
before  those  girls  had  given  me  books  with  flirting  signals 
that  the  boys  in  a  school  near-by  understood,  and  there 
wasn't  a  night  that  there  was  not  a  tryst  with  some  man 
held  by  those  innocent  little  creatures,  who  knew  more 
vileness  in  a  day  than  an  American  could  store  up  and 
remember  in  a  year." 

Captain  Corcoran  came  to  the  door  just  then,  and,  see 
ing  who  were  there,  would  have  retreated  if  Rose  had  not 
called  him  in. 

"  Any  more  war  news  to-day,  captain  ?"  she  asked. 

He  looked  apprehensively  around,  but,  seeing  that 
nothing  had  reached  their  ears,  he  said  no,  and  took  a 
seat  near  Mrs.  Gregory. 

"  Baronne,  did  you  ever  tell  Mrs.  Sharp  about  the 
breakfast  you  gave  at  Bellemaison  when  the  Comte  de 
Bee-Roche  wished  to  form  an  alliance  for  his  daughter 
with  your  son  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  did." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Sharp. 

340 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Captain  Corcoran  beckoned  Mrs.  Gregory  over  to  the 
window. 

"  Follow  me  into  the  little  salon  presently/'  he  mur 
mured. 

"  Well/'  said  the  baronne,  "  the  Bee-Roche  estate  is  ten 
miles  up  the  river  from  Bellemaison,  and  lies  between  us 
and  Vrianault,  but  the  soil  differs  materially  in  that 
little  river-belt,  and,  as  we  all  raise  vines  in  Touraine,  the 
comte  was  for  making  sure  that  my  wine  would  at  least 
be  the  equal  of  his  in  case  of  a  marriage ;  so  after  the 
breakfast  he  strolled  into  the  gardens,  and,  producing  a 
huge  paper  bag  and  a  small  trowel,  he  dug  around  the 
roots  of  a  vine  and  filled  the  bag.  He  explained  that  he 
would,  with  my  permission,  take  it  home  and  analyze 
it!" 

"  To  see  if  her  dirt  was  as  rich  as  his  dirt !"  cried  Lida, 
with  a  scream  of  laughter. 

Mrs.  Gregory  laid  her  hand  on  Rose's  shoulder. 

"  Come,  my  darling,"  she  said. 

Rose  looked  up  in  surprise.  Mrs.  Gregory's  face  was 
very  pale. 

"  You  have  had  bad  news,"  she  said,  "  and  it  con 
cerns  me.  Captain  Corcoran  told  you.  Tell  me  here — 
now  !  I  am  not  afraid." 

The  others  rose  hastily. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  gasped  Lida. 

Both  girls  leaned  forward. 

"  Is  it  Shirley  ?"  whispered  Rose. 

"  No  !  no  !  dear  !"  cried  Mrs.  Gregory. 

"  War  !     Then  war  has  been  declared  1" 

"  No,  my  poor  child,"  began  the  baronne,  who  had 
learned  the  news  of  Captain  Corcoran. 

Rose  turned  towards  her  with  white  lips. 

"  Not — "  She  dared  not  mention  Townshend's  name 
before  them  all. 

"  This  is  cruel/'  said  Marion  Gregory.  "  I  will  tell  you, 

34i 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Rose,  my  darling  !  La  Bourgogne  has  gone  down  off 
Sable  Island.  Only  one  woman  saved,  but  that  woman 
was  not  Maria  !" 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Rose,  covering  her  lips  with  her  hand 
and  looking  around  at  the  sympathetic  faces  of  her 
friends  with  startled  eyes. 

"A  collision  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  An  awful  collision.  In  the  night.  And  the 
Marquis  d'Auteuil  was  among  the  saved/'  said  Captain 
Corcoran. 

"  I  knew  it.  I  felt  it  before  you  told  me,"  moaned 
Rose.  "  Oh,  my  poor  father  !  He  admired  my  sister 
so!" 

They  took  her  home,  telling  her  as  gently  as  they 
could  the  bare  facts,  which  were  as  yet  all  that  had 
reached  Paris.  The  whole  truth  was  never  known  there. 
The  French  newspapers  suppressed  the  disgrace  of  it. 

When  Rose  reached  home,  her  father  and  Shirley  were 
in  the  library  reading  the  cablegrams  which  were  being 
repeated  from  the  office  of  the  Herald,  together  with 
scores  of  private  messages  from  friends,  containing  the 
horrible  details. 

God  pity  those  whose  loved  women  were  on  that  fated 
ship  when  the  news  of  the  way  they  perished  came  ! 

When  Shirley  saw  the  white  faces  of  Rose  and  Lida 
at  the  door,  and  knew  that  they  had  heard,  the  big,  ten 
der-hearted  fellow  went  and  put  his  arms  around  them 
both.  Lida  began  to  weep,  but  Rose  crept  nearer  to  her 
father,  who  had  a  haggard  look  of  distress  on  his  face, 
which  was  not  all  grief  for  his  lost  daughter.  Raoul 
saved  !  Her  brother  saved,  and  Maria  one  of  those 
poor  women,  perhaps,  whom  the  men — 

He  rose  with  a  sigh  which  was  almost  a  groan. 

*  Well,  Rose  !"  he  said.     "  Your  sister — poor  Maria — " 

His  voice  broke  and  he  turnetl  away. 

"  And  Raoul  saved  !"  cried  Lida,  tearing  herself  away 

342 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

from  Shirley.     She  came  across  the  room  and  faced 
Mr.  Hollenden,  who  regarded  her  with  interest. 

"  Air.  Hollenden,  it  isn't  often  I  feel  murderous,  but 
if  you  or  Shirley  don't  kill  that  man,  by  Jove  !  I'll  do 
it  myself  !" 

The  old  man's  pale  eyes  glittered.  He  wrung  the 
girl's  hand  in  silence,  and  Shirley  and  Rose  looked  at 
each  other,  well  knowing  why  he  would  not  commit  him 
self  to  vengeance. 

"  More  despatches,  monsieur !"  said  the  footman,  en 
tering. 

Shirley  seized  them. 

"  This  one  is  from  your  brother-in-law,  Lida.  It  says  : 
'Body  of  Marquise  d'Auteuil  recovered  by  Cromarty- 
shire.  Was  under  seat  of  capsized  life-boat,  held  in 
death -grip  by  Englishman,  name  as  yet  unknown. 
Body  was  wrapped  in  coat  of  American  sculptor,  identi 
fied  by  papers  in  pockets.' " 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  crumpling  the  despatch  in  his 
hand. 

Rose  and  Lida  burst  into  tears,  and  Shirley  hastily 
put  the  cablegram  into  his  father's  hand.  The  rest  of 
it  read  :  "  Maria's  hands  badly  mutilated.  Stockton  !" 

"  Oh,  God  !"  cried  Mr.  Hollenden,  flinging  the  de 
spatch  into  the  fire.  "  My  poor  girl !" 

"  The  other  one  is  from  the  Herald,  and  says  :  '  Cro- 
martyshire's  behavior  superb.  Savage  in  denuncia 
tion  of  rescued  Frenchmen.  Body  of  Marquise  d'Au 
teuil  recovered.'  ' 

"  There's  another,  Shirley.     Read  that." 

"  This  is  from  the  Associated  Press.  1  cabled  them 
to  send  news  direct.  It  says  :  '  Marquis  d'Auteuil  on 
deck  at  time  of  collision,  and  first  to  reach  life-boat. 
Gives  graphic  account  of  his  rescue  !' " 

"  Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Brissy  !"  announced  the 
footman. 

343 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Rose  started  to  her  feet  to  utter  a  furious  protest,  but 
the  Frenchwoman  was  too  clever  to  risk  a  refusal  by 
delay.  She  entered  the  room  before  her  name  was  fair 
ly  announced.  Her  pale  cheeks  showed  traces  of  tears, 
and  her  voice  trembled  with  feeling.  Mr.  Hollenden's 
face  crimsoned  at  a  melting  glance  she  flung  him  from 
her  liquid  eyes — so  like  her  brother's — but  she  put  him 
aside  and  held  out  her  arms  silently  to  Rose. 

Afterwards  Rose  wondered  how  she  ever  had  the  nerve 
to  do  it,  for  the  presence  of  the  magnificent  Frenchwom 
an  was  very  compelling  —  almost  overpowering  ;  but 
all  Rose's  courage  surged  back  into  her  heart  at  the 
sight  of  the  sister  of  the  coward  who  was  first  to 
reach  the  life-boat,  and,  drawing  herself  up  to  her  full 
height,  she  brushed  past  Madame  de  Brissy,  and  left 
the  room  without  a  word  of  greeting,  apology,  or 
farewell. 

The  comtesse  narrowed  her  eyes  at  them  as  Lida  and 
Shirley  followed  suit,  disappearing  by  another  door. 
Her  nostrils  dilated  and  her  hands  clenched  as  she 
dropped  them  at  her  side.  She  nodded  her  head  im 
perceptibly  as  she  murmured : 

"  Good  !  It  is  war  to  the  knife  from  now  on  !  No 
more  pretence  !" 

She  turned  away  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
and  Mr.  Hollenden  followed  her,  taking  her  hand  in  his, 
all  traces  of  his  resentment  melting  away  under  her 
grief  at  Rose's  rebuff. 

"  Forgive  her,  dear  Mr.  Hollenden.  She  did  not  in- 
intend  to  wound  me.  I  came  to  show  her  a  cablegram 
from  my  poor  brother,  which  might  tend  to  soften  her 
just  resentment.  Here  it  is." 

Mr.  Hollenden  was  so  touched  by  this  noble  generos 
ity  that  he  walked  nervously  up  and  down  the  floor, 
stamping  a  little  now  and  then  to  ease  his  emotion.  The 
comtesse  grinned  behind  his  back,  and  let  her  eyes  rove 

344 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

to  the  tapestries,  four  of  the  most  valuable  of  which  hung 
on  the  walls  of  the  salon  beyond. 

Finally -the  mist  cleared  from  Mr.  Hollenden's  eyes 
sufficiently  to  read :  "  Was  only  saved  from  being 
thrown  overboard  by  rescuing  crew  by  exhibiting  maim^ 
ed  hands.  RAOUL." 

"True!"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  suddenly.  "I  had  for 
gotten  that !  Is  this  all  you  have  heard  ?" 

"  All !"  murmured  the  comtesse  from  the  depths  of  her 
handkerchief. 

She  lied  easily  and  well.     Lying  is  a  great  gift. 

She  slipped  her  hand  into  her  pocket  to  be  sure  that 
she  had  not  also  given  him  by  accident  the  one  saying, 
briefly  :  "  I  have  seen  Maria  dead  with  my  own  eyes." 

She  was  so  exhilarated  by  the  news  that  she  was 
forced  to  keep  her  handkerchief  before  her  face  to  hide 
the  corners  of  her  mouth,  which  curved  upward  in  spite 
of  her  most  valiant  efforts.  "  Maria  dead  !  That  hid 
eous  monkey  out  of  the  way  forever,  and  all  her  money 
Raoul's  !  Oh,  God  is  good  !"  her  thoughts  ran.  She 
could  scarcely  contain  herself.  It  was  a  trial  to  be 
obliged  to  come  to  this  house  of  mourning.  She  wanted 
to  order  a  dinner  in  Madame  Flamont's  apartment,  with 
champagne  and  cigarettes.  This  crowning  success  of 
all  her  schemes  intoxicated  her.  Her  feet  tapped  the 
polished  floor  impatiently.  Her  fingers  twitched  to  snap 
themselves  in  the  old  man's  face.  He  sat  alluringly 
near.  She  felt  maliciously  mischievous.  If  she  only 
dared  to  run  those  magnetic  fingers  of  hers  through  his 
white  hair  and  trail  their  tips  down  his  cheek !  Her 
spirits  were  becoming  unruly.  She  must  go.  Oh,  for 
a  carnival,  or  a  bal  masqu6,  where  she  could  give  way 
to  the  exuberance  of  her  excitement !  She  rose  to  go, 
with  an  air  of  disappointment  which  was  not  all  feigned 
She  really  would  have  enjoyed  a  scene  with  Mr.  Hol- 

345 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

lenden.  The  time  was  ripe — he  was  quite  ready  to  of 
fer  marriage  to  her,  but  she  dared  not  bring  on  a  crisis 
just  now.  In  her  heart  she  feared  the  influence  of  the 
clear-eyed  American  girl,  who  she  felt  despised  her.  If 
ever  an  opportunity  came  to  torture  Rose  by  making 
a  fool  of  her  father  in  the  girl's  presence,  she  would — 

Just  then  she  felt  rather  than  saw  that  Rose  was  com 
ing  down  the  corridor  to  gain  the  stairs.  Her  shadow 
was  faintly  reflected  in  a  large,  gilt-framed  mirror.  The 
comtesse  turned  towards  Mr.  Hollenden  with  such  a 
look  of  invitation  in  her  eyes  that  quite  swept  him  off 
his  feet.  He  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  suffered 
his  kisses  with  a  willingness  which  went  to  his  brain 
like  wine.  Through  her  half -closed  eyes  Rose's 
startled,  white,  reproachful  face  appeared  for  one  mo 
ment  in  the  mirror,  then  suddenlj7  melted  away. 

Drawing  herself  partly  away  from  the  old  man's  arms, 
the  Frenchwoman  took  his  burning  face  between  her 
two  cool  palms  and  murmured,  caressingly  : 

"  You  forgive  us  ?  You  do  not  think  my  brother — 
the  brother  of  the  woman  you  hold  in  your  arms — is 
a  coward  ?" 

"  God  knows  I  did  !"  groaned  the  man. 

The  Frenchwoman,  although  horribly  afraid  one  of 
those  noiseless  servants  would  appear  at  one  of  the  doors 
at  any  moment,  leaned  forward  and  fluttered  her  lips 
against  the  American's  in  a  trembling  kiss. 

"  Do  you  now  ?"  she  murmured,  without  moving. 

"  No  !  No  !"  he  cried,  casting  off  allegiance  to  Rose 
and  Shirley  and  his  dead  daughter,  and  allying  him 
self  finally  to  the  cause  of  the  sister  whose  brother  had 
caused  Maria's  murder. 

It  seemed  to  the  tortured  man  that  his  soul  was  rent  in 
twain  by  that  admission,  but  the  lips  of  the  comtesse 
were  still  against  his  own,  and  he  felt  that  the  reward 
was  great.  He  was  just  about,  in  the  innocence  of  his 

346 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

heart,  to  speak  of  marriage  to  her,  when  Madame  de 
Brissy,  with  a  frightened  whisper  of  "  The  servants  1" 
broke  away  from  his  embrace  and  ran  lightly  down  the 
corridor  to  the  door  with  graceful  composure. 

Once  inside  the  little  brougham  she  had  set  up  since 
Raoul's  marriage,  however,  the  Frenchwoman  leaned 
her  head  back  against  the  satin  cushions,  flung  up  her 
arms,  and  screamed  with  unrestrained  laughter 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

TOWNSMEN  D  sat  before  the  fire  in  his  apartment  in 
the  rue  du  Cherche  Midi  with  his  head  between  his 
lean  brown  hands.  He  was  thinking,  wondering,  plan 
ning,  discussing  with  himself  the  possibility  of  organiz 
ing  a  regiment  among  his  cowboy  friends  in  Arizona, 
New  Mexico,  and  Texas. 

Ever  since  the  destruction  of  the  Maine  he  had  felt 
quite  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that  America  would  be 
obliged  to  declare  war  with  Spain,  and  somewhat  to  his 
own  surprise  he  felt  his  heart  turning  more  and  more 
towards  his  country  in  her  hour  of  peril. 

The  surprise  was  occasioned  by  the  fact  that  the  treat 
ment  he  had  received  at  the  hands  of  his  American  ac 
quaintances,  and,  in  many  instances,  even  of  his  friends, 
when  he  had  returned  from  prolonged  stays  in  European 
capitals,  and  had  tried  to  interest  influential  Americans 
in  the  problem  of  a  more  suitable  representation  of  the 
country  at  foreign  courts,  had  embittered  him  against 
his  native  land,  and  had  finally  been  a  factor  in  driving 
him  to  fix  his  residence  abroad.  It  is  a  thankless  task 
to  try  to  educate  a  vainglorious  American  populace  up 
to  taking  an  interest  in  anything  beyond  the  limit  of  their 
horizon,  or  to  induce  them  to  look  at  themselves  in  their 
proper  relative  value  to  other  nations.  But  Townshend 
had  originally  been  possessed  of  a  fine  enthusiasm  of 
patriotism,  and  he  had  flung  himself  into  the  problem  of 
making  Americans  realize  their  real  weakness  abroad, 
with  a  generous  belief  that  he  knew  a  sufficient  number 

348 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

of  cultivated  and  enlightened  persons,  who  had  been 
over  the  ground  and  who  knew,  to  help  him.  But,  to  his 
amazement,  he  Discovered  that  few  really  understood 
and  still  fewer  cared.  Nothing  daunted,  he  still  perse 
vered  until  the  truth  gradually  dawned  upon  him  that  of 
the  thousands  of  Americans  who  cross  the  ocean  every 
year  so  few  had  ever  succeeded  in  penetrating  court 
circles,  or  of  really  being  a  factor  in  the  society  of  the 
capitals  where  they  had  lived,  that  he  could  not  gather 
enough  together  to  count.  Perhaps  their  wives  had 
been  presented  at  court  and  boasted  a  few  isolated  tri 
umphs  ;  but  as  to  American  men  being  reckoned  among 
the  number  of  those  who  belonged,  and  who  were  sought 
after,  instead  of  being  obliged  to  push  their  way  bj7  main 
force  in  order  to  get  in  at  all — the  instances  were  few  and 
far  between.  Townshend  could  not  concentrate  their 
influence.  The  others  were  hide-bound,  and  only  ridi 
culed  him  for  his  pains.  The  newspapers  got  hold  of  his 
idea  to  give  every  minister  and  ambassador  to  a  foreign 
country  the  rank  of  major-general,  in  order  to  permit 
the  use  of  the  uniform  at  court  functions,  and  all  the 
cheap  wit  of  cheap  journalistic  brains  poured  itself  out 
upon  his  devoted  head,  making  him,  by  pen  and  cartoon, 
so  ridiculous  that  the  sensitive  man  relinquished  all 
attempts  to  carry  out  his  patriotic  plans  and  betook  him 
self  to  Europe,  literally  hounded  out  of  his  native  land 
because  of  his  patriotism. 

But  time  had  taken  away  the  poignant  sting  of  all 
this,  and,  at  the  first  sign  his  country  showed  of  her  need 
of  her  sons,  Townshend  wrote  to  the  President,  offering  to 
raise  a  regiment  of  cowboys  and  sharp-shooters,  and 
equip  them  at  his  own  expense,  also  to  present  the  gov 
ernment  with  a  battery  of  light  artillery. 

The  President,  in  a  personal  letter,  his  great  heart 
touched  by  such  generous  patriotism  from  across  the 
seas,  accepted  the  light  battery,  conditionally,  and  beg- 

349 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ged  Townshend  to  submit  his  plans  of  a  regiment  of 
rough  riders  more  fully  to  the  Secretary  of  War.  If 
possible,  the  President  assured  him,  the  idea  appealed  to 
him  personally  as  so  novel  and  so  excellent,  that  he 
would  use  his  influence  to  have  it  carried  out,  not  at 
Townshend 's  but  at  government  expense. 

Townshend  had  only  that  day  received  the  letter,  but 
his  heart  warmed  towards  his  country  in  a  manner  to 
make  him  know  that,  if  war  were  really  declared,  this 
selfish  manner  of  displaying  his  loyalty  by  the  mere 
expenditure  of  money  which  he  would  not  miss  could 
never  satisfy  him.  He  knew — in  his  heart  he  knew — 
that  he  himself  must  go.  He  had  done  little  with  his  life 
thus  far,  chiefly  because  there  had  seemed  no  pressing 
need  of  exploration  or  scientific  research,  and  no  other 
opportunity  to  distinguish  himself  had  presented  itself. 
His  ranch  was  his  chief  interest.  There  he  was  at  his 
best — loved,  respected,  feared  even,  for  Townshend  was 
born  to  be  a  leader  of  men. 

He  rather  laughed  at  his  own  enthusiasm  when  he 
found  himself  sitting  up  half  the  night  to  write  personal 
letters  to  the  War  Department,  detailing  his  plans,  and 
then  dictating  to  his  secretary  all  day  letters  to  his 
rough-and-ready  friends  of  the  great  plains  —  expert 
shots,  scouts,  half-breed  Indians,  men  with  whom  he 
had  hunted,  and,  in  one  or  two  instances,  for  whom  he 
had  hunted,  only  to  take  them  into  his  employ  after 
wards  and  to  turn  them  from  bad  citizens  into  faithful 
friends  and  allies  who  would  risk  their  lives  for  him  or 
with  him  wherever  he  led. 

For  two  months  Townshend  worked  day  and  night, 
explaining  and  perfecting  his  plan  of  a  regiment  of  these 
men.  He  was  in  constant  and  close  communication 
with  the  administration,  so  much  more  so  than  the 
ambassador  that  Mr.  Sharp  was  often  forced  to  call  upon 
Townshend  for  news.  But  the  War  Department  at 

35° 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Washington  recognized  that  a  keen  brain  and  an  iron 
nerve  were  directing  this  daring  project,  and  they  also 
knew  that  the  man  to  lead  them  must  be  a  man  these 
men  loved  and  feared.  Therefore  the  Secretary  of  War 
formally  offered  the  colonelcy  of  the  regiment  to  Town 
shend,  and  gave  him  authority  to  come  over  and  organ 
ize  it. 

But  this  honor  Townshend  declined.  He  wrote, 
however,  suggesting  as  colonel  the  names  of  two  men 
who  had  been  associated  with  him  in  his  life  on  the 
plains,  either  one  of  whom  possessed  the  necessary 
qualities  of  leadership  and  whom  his  men  would  follow. 
Townshend  asked  for  a  captaincy  in  the  regiment  for 
himself,  and  promised  to  sail  by  the  first  steamer  in 
order  to  assist  in  its  organization. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  morning  of  the  26th  day 
of  April,  1898,  he  mounted  Minnehaha  and  started  for 
his  ride. 

"  You  are  going  home,  my  girl,"  he  said,  patting  her 
satin  skin  a  moment  before  he  sprang  into  the  saddle. 
The  handsome  mare  flung  up  her  head  as  if  she  under 
stood.  Personally,  Townshend  had  no  doubt  but  that 
she  did.  "  They  have  issued  a  call  for  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  volunteers,  and  you  and  1  must 
be  the  first  two  to  answer  that  call.  No  matter  if  the 
ocean  rolls  between,  we  are  still  Americans,  my  girl, 
remember  that !" 

The  mare  nodded  her  handsome  head  and  pawed  the 
ground  with  her  slim  black  hoof. 

"  1  can't  read  what  you  have  written  there,"  said 
Townshend,  laughing  into  her  eyes.  "  1  am  no  Kipling, 
but  I  know  what  you  mean,  and,  by  Jove !  we'll  do  it, 
you  and  I  !  Steady  !  Now,  then,  we're  off  !" 

As  he  reached  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  he  reined  her 
in  a  moment,  something  intangible  urging  him  to  give 
up  the  Bois  and  to  go  down  to  the  boulevards.  It  was 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

just  possible  that  some  definite  news  might  have  reached 
Paris. 

It  seemed  as  if  Paris  that  year  was  on  the  verge  of  a 
revolution.  L'affaire  Dreyfus  was  at  its  height.  The 
crucifixion  of  this  man  had  so  rent  society,  politics,  and 
the  country  at  large,  that  hostesses  at  state  functions 
finally  laid  a  ban  upon  the  whole  subject,  and  guests 
were  greeted  with  the  words,  politely  spoken,  with  a 
smile  to  hide  an  iron  command,  "  We  will  not  discuss  IT, 
if  you  please  !" 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  world — but  this  is  true 
only  because  the  telegraph  and  press  now  hold  the  world 
in  their  palm — have  the  whole  civilized  nations  of  the 
round  globe  taken  so  violent  an  interest  in  the  fate  of 
one  man.  Not  even  upon  Napoleon  in  his  prison  at  Elba 
were  so  many  eyes  bent,  nor  for  him  did  so  many  hearts 
beat  as  for  this  hunted  Jew,  condemned  to  a  living  death, 
hounded  to  what  all  men  realize  is  worse  than  death, 
solitary  confinement,  by  the  most  malicious  nation 
which  boasts  a  civilization  and  a  religion  in  the  present 
day.  In  all  the  time  of  his  imprisonment,  tortured  by 
devilishly  false  reports  of  his  brave  wife's  infidelities; 
baited  by  schemes  of  suicide  with  tempting  weapons 
always  under  his  eyes  ;  almost  trapped  once  or  twice 
by  ingeniously-planned  midnight  surprises  into  firing 
upon  his  guard  from  sleepy  terror,  to  give  an  excuse  for 
shooting  him  in  his  miserable  trap  like  a  caught  rat — 
this  one  man  the  personal  victim  of  a  nation  whose  skill 
in  torture  has  reached  perfection  through  generations  of 
concentrated  endeavor,  kept  insanity  at  bay  that  he 
might  live  to  prove  his  innocence.  Alone  upon  a  dot  of 
an  island  in  the  midst  of  the  never-ending  sea,  solitary, 
forsaken,  he  was  permitted  but  once  to  send  a  message 
out  of  his  prison,  and  this  message,  a  wave  of  the  hand 
and  the  pregnant  words  :  "  My  compliments  to  the  world 
outside  \" 

352 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

But  humanity  was  again  speaking  in  his  defence. 
Some — a  few  honest  men — were  yet  left  in  France,  who 
risked  life  and  liberty  in  a  daring  attempt  to  right  this 
wrong,  and  the  country  was  seething  like  a  boiling  caul 
dron.  America,  although  busy  with  her  right  hand  in 
tearing  the  yoke  of  Spanish  tyranny  and  oppression 
from  the  miserable  and  half  -  unworthy  Cubans,  yet 
found  time  to  raise  her  left  in  warning  to  the  French 
and  to  remind  them  that  their  Exposition  was  coming — 
that  Exposition  built,  carried  on,  and  wellnigh  com 
pleted  by  foreign  gold. 

The  American  eagle  might  have  screamed  himself 
hoarse  about  the  rights  of  this  victim  of  French  malig 
nity,  and  the  Gauls  would  still  have  been  sipping  their 
absinthe  and  smiling  maliciously.  But  the  one  shrill 
note  he  screamed,  warning  them  that,  not  their  soul's 
salvation,  but  their  money  was  at  stake,  and  all  France 
held  its  breath  to  listen.  England,  too,  sounded  her 
alarum,  and  laid  her  finger-tip  upon  Fashoda  to  show 
that  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  not  sleeping,  and  again 
France  hesitated  and  counted  her  sous,  and  thought 
greedily  of  the  francs  of  the  Exposition,  and — wondered 
if  Dreyfus  were  quite  comfortable  in  his  retreat  on  Dev 
il's  Island  ! 

All  this  forms  part  of  the  reason  why  the  financial  and 
political  Gaul  showed  his  teeth  at  the  Anglo-Saxon  at 
that  particular  time  with  an  intensity  of  feeling  which  the 
Anglo-Saxon  even  yet  does  not  thoroughly  understand. 

Townshend  had  much  to  think  of  as  the  sorrel  mare 
picked  her  dainty  way  in  the  rue  de  Rivoli  like  a  pretty 
woman  crossing  a  muddy  street.  He  turned  down  the 
rue  des  Pyramides  and  came  into  the  Avenue  de  I'0p6ra. 
What  a  street  it  is  !  What  a  street  any  street  in  Paris 
would  be  in  the  early  morning  of  a  fine  spring  day,  with 
Minnehaha's  splendid  speed  and  human  intelligence 
for  companionship  ! 

z  353 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

As  Townshend  came  nearer  to  the  magnificence  of  the 
OpeVa,  which  rose  in  majesty  at  the  end  of  the  avenue, 
he  saw  a  small  crowd  gathered  in  front  of  Cook's,  at 
No.  I  Place  de  l'0p<§ra. 

But  as  he  came  nearer  he  saw  that  something  serious 
was  afoot.  The  crowd  surged  towards  the  door  and 
struggled  and  pushed  each  other  roughly  in  order  to 
read  the  bulletin  posted  there. 

War  !     The  Declaration  of  War  ! 

A  babel  of  voices  was  raised  in  French  and  English. 
Minnehaha  got  her  forefeet  on  the  curb,  and  over  the 
heads  of  the  surging  crowd,  to  his  horror,  Townshend 
saw  Rose,  in  the  very  thick  of  it,  while,  quite  uncon 
cerned  and  blind  to  his  mistress's  danger,  her  groom  was 
driving  her  dog-cart  up  and  down,  proud  of  the  attention 
the  chestnut  always  attracted. 

Townshend  anxiously  tried  to  gain  Rose's  eye.  The 
sight  of  her  black  gown  wrung  his  heart,  for  in  the  two 
months  which  had  elapsed  since  Maria's  death  he  had 
not  seen  her  often  enough  to  become  accustomed  to  it. 

"  Gentlemen  I"  he  cried,  in  French.  "  You  are  crowd 
ing  the  ladies  unmercifully.  Remain  where  you  are,  I 
beg,  and  one  of  you  read  the  message  aloud.  We  are 
here.  We  will  listen  1" 

An  angry  murmur  from  the  Frenchmen,  and  cries  of 
"  Yes  !  Yes  !"  from  the  Americans  were  the  only  results 
as  the  Frenchmen  struggled  nearer.  A  few  faint  screams 
came  from  the  women. 

Townshend  set  his  teeth  and  shook  the  reins.  Min 
nehaha  lowered  her  handsome  head  and  nuzzled  her 
way  into  the  crowd,  snorting  her  contempt  of  such  be 
havior  into  men's  necks  and  sneezing  in  their  faces. 

With  exclamations  of  surprise  and  astonishment  the 
crowd  parted  suddenly,  and  Minnehaha  stopped  with 
her  satin  nose  against  the  bulletin-board  on  which  Amer 
ica's  declaration  of  war  was  posted,  as  if  she  knew  that 

354 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

she,  too,  must  go  with  her  master  where  that  call  for  vol 
unteers  led. 

Rose  caught  her  by  her  bridle,  and  Townshend  waved 
his  hand. 

"  Silence  !"  he  cried.  "  America  has  formally  declared 
war  with  Spain.  Those  of  you  who  wish  to  hear  the  ex 
act  words,  listen.  The  rest  will  at  least  have  the  cour 
tesy  to  allow  us  that  privilege  1" 

"  Bravo  !  Let  the  American  girl,  with  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  on  her  breast,  read  it  aloud  1"  cried  a  voice. 

"  Read  it,  Rose  !"  said  Townshend. 

The  girl  trembled  with  pleasure  at  the  note  of  com 
mand  in  his  voice.  Her  cheeks  flushed  with  excitement 
as  her  voice  rang  out  in  the  martial  words  which  brought 
an  old  and  haughty  nation  into  deadly  combat  with  a 
young  and  courageous  one,  battling  for  a  cause  which 
never  was  and  wliich  never  will  be  popular,  but  which 
brought  the  name  of  the  young  and  unconsidered  re 
public  into  the  Senate  Chamber  of  the  Powers,  for 
ever  afterwards  to  hold  her  place  and  her  vote  with 
princes  and  potentates  of  the  Old  World,  and  perhaps, 
with  her  mother,  some  day  —  who  knows  ?  —  to  rule 
them  all  ! 

As  Rose  turned  away  with  shining  eyes  a  breeze 
fluttered  the  tiny  silk  flag  on  her  breast,  and  a  titled 
Frenchwoman,  who  had  been  at  the  Duchesse  de  Brian- 
court's  reception,  snatched  it  off,  tore  it  into  shreds,  and 
spat  upon  the  fragments.  To  Townshend's  amazement 
Rose  sprang  at  her  like  a  tigress.  Without  a  word, 
Townshend  leaned  down  and  laid  an  iron  hand  on  Rose's 
shoulder.  The  faces  in  the  crowd  looked  black  and 
ominous.  He  signalled  to  her  groom,  and  the  dog-cart 
drew  up  before  the  curb. 

*  Get  in  and  drive  away  instantly/'  he  whispered.  "  1 
will  follow  you." 

He  waited  in  the  crowd,  covering  them  with  his  eye 

355 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

as  with  a  pistol,until  Rose  turned  the  corner  and  was  lost 
to  view ;  then  giving  a  quick  word,  Minnehaha  stretched 
herself  and  with  one  leap  was  in  the  street,  galloping 
after  the  chestnut  as  if  she  knew  that  she  and  her  master 
must  always  follow  where  the  chestnut's  mistress  led. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ROSE  was  waiting  for  Townshend  in  front  of  the 
Madeleine. 

"  What  were  you  going  to  do  to  her  if  I  had  let  you 
go  ?"  asked  Townshend. 

"  1  was  going  to  scratch  her  eyes  out !"  cried  Rose, 
fiercely.  "  Did  you  see  her  spit  on  the  American  flag  ?" 

Tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  Why  didn't  you  pull  her  hair !"  suggested  Town 
shend,  laughing.  "  1  think  you  would  have  killed  her. 
1  was  quite  frightened." 

"  You  know  you  weren't,"  said  Rose,  smiling  against 
her  will.  She  was  so  angry  and  outraged  that  she  did 
not  wish  to  make  light  of  it.  Rose  was  fairly  quiver 
ing  to  turn  upon  Townshend  and  demand  why  he  did 
not  go  home  to  fight.  The  next  moment  she  recoiled 
from  the  thought  for  fear  of  the  reply  he  might  make. 
Through  forcing  him  to  explain  his  position  she  might 
be  compelled  to  give  up  his  friendship  forever.  She 
might  even  be  obliged  never  to  see  him  again.  No  I 
She  would  not  ask  him  !  She  hoped  she  might  even 
sail  for  America  before  the  subject  was  broached  be 
tween  them. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Townshend,  pres 
ently. 

*  I  don't  know.  Anywhere  !  Let's  go  over  to  Shir 
ley's  to  breakfast !" 

"A  brilliant  idea  !"  exclaimed  Townshend.  "  I  want 
to  see  Shirley,  anyway." 

357 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

They  stopped  and  sent  word  up  to  Lida  and  Mrs. 
Gregory  to  follow  them,  and  started. 

"  Shirley  won't  have  enough  for  us  to  eat !"  exclaimed 
Rose,  pulling  up  suddenly. 

"  Well,  let's  stop  and  buy  provisions.  Here  is  Felix 
Potin  quite  near.  Shirley  is  sure  to  have  coffee — " 

*  Yes,  and  sugar  and  things  like  that.     But  get  cream 
and  eggs — there  is  a  little  dairy  right  next  to — " 

"And  some  ham  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  a  few  onions  !  I  want  to  try  an  omelette  aux 
onions  that  Marion  was  telling  me  of." 

"  Can  you  cook  ?"  asked  Townshend,  laughing. 

*  Can't  I,  just  ?" 

"  1  never  had  an  omelette  aux  onions  but  once,"  said 
Townshend,  "  and  that  was  at  Santi's  in  Cairo.  It  was 
very  good,  I  remember.  1  hope  yours  will  be  !"  he 
added,  anxiously. 

"  You  shall  help  me  cook  it,  so  if  it  is  bad  1  can  blame 
you.  It  is  such  a  comfort  to  have  some  one  to  blame !" 
said  Rose,  laughing. 

"  I  wish  1  could  always  bear  the  blame  for  you,  and 
the  sorrow,  and  stand  near  when  things  go  wrong  with 
you,"  said  Townshend,  as  they  drew  up  at  Shirley's 
door. 

"  Don't !"  said  Rose,  tremulously. 

She  sprang  down  without  his  assistance  and  held  out 
her  hands  to  Minnehaha.  The  mare  reached  out  her 
long  neck  and  snuffed  expectantly  at  Rose's  pink  palms. 

"  Give  her  this  sugar,  or  she  will  be  disappointed," 
said  Townshend. 

Minnehaha  crunched  the  lumps  in  her  strong  white 
teeth,  turning  her  velvet  eyes  on  Rose  with  almost  hu 
man  knowledge. 

"  Oh,  you  beauty  !"  cried  the  girl,  flinging  her  arms 
around  the  mare's  neck.  Townshend  started  forward. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  asked  Rose. 

358 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  I  didn't  know  what  she  might  do.  She  is  so  ner 
vous,  she  might  have  jumped  and  hurt  you." 

"  What  !  This  lady  hurt  me  ?  Don't  you  know, 
you  man,  you  !  that  every  woman  knows  when  she  is 
being  admired  and  flattered,  and  can  tell  a  caress  from 
a  strangle  ?" 

"  I  give  up  the  problem,"  laughed  Townshend,  "  when 
even  my  horse  will  take  from  you  what  she  never  would 
stand  from  me  !" 

"  I  am  going  to  ride  her  some  day,"  announced  Rose, 
little  thinking  under  what  circumstances  that  time 
would  come.  "  Has  she  ever  carried  a  lady  ?" 

"  Never  !  But  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  that  you 
could  ride  her  safely,  and  the  first  time,  too  !" 

The  noise  of  shrieks  and  screams  of  laughter  came 
echoing  down  the  empty  stairway,  as  the  two,  laden 
with  parcels,  made  their  way  to  the  third  floor.  They 
had  avoided  the  subject  of  war  by  mutual  consent,  and 
each  was  glad  to  realize  from  the  sounds  above  that  the 
unwelcome  topic  would  be  pushed  yet  a  little  further 
into  the  future  before  they  would  be  compelled  to  face 
its  effect  upon  their  own  lives.  As  they  opened  the 
door  this  Babel  assailed  their  ears  with  violence.  The 
air  was  thick  with  smoke,  and  as  Rose  entered  no  less 
than  twenty  young  fellows  sprang  to  their  feet  and  sa 
luted  her. 

"  Play  the  bugle-call  for  '  mess  '  !"  cried  Rose,  "  and 
don't  sit  down  on  those  eggs.  We've  come  to  breakfast 
with  you  !" 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Captain  Rose,  you  mustn't  begin  work 
so  early  in  the  morning  !  Sit  down  and  listen  to  Pat 
Duffy  read  '  Dooley  on  the  Dreyfus  Case  '  !" 

Duffy  was  a  fellow-student  of  ShirlejT's  at  Julian's, 
but  exceptionally  gifted  in  helping  Shirley  to  work  out 
"  that  little  thing  of  his  own/'  as  they  gleefully  called 
their  military  organization.  He  was  red-headed  and 

359 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

freckled,  but,  in  looking  back  over  one's  acquaintance 
,  with  pleasant  people,  the  nicest  people  one  knows  are 
so  often  red-headed  and  freckled  that  it  ought  to  put 
^  a  premium  on  freckles. 

:  It  was  to  Shirley  Hollenden  in  Paris  that  some  one 
sent  a  stray  copy  of  the  Chicago  newspaper  in  which 
the  now  world-wide  wit  and  satire  of  Mr.  Martin  Dooley 
first  made  its  appearance,  and  from  that  time  on  the 
Irish  philosopher  had  an  eager  and  smoke-dried  audi 
ence  of  students  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  whose  enthusi 
astic  roars  and  howls  of  laughter  often  caused  the  con 
cierge  to  suspect  them  to  be  up  to  deviltry  of  which  they 
were — at  such  moments,  at  least — wholly  innocent. 

The  news  of  Zola's  interference  and  exile  had  just 
reached  Mr.  Dooley 's  ear,  and  this  assemblage  in  the 
rue  Bonaparte  was  in  response  to  the  slogan -call  of 
Shirley,  issued  the  evening  before.  Everybody  in  Paris 
was  agitated  over  Zola's  solemn  arraignment  and  ex 
ile,  and  his  impressive  "J'accuse"  speech  was  still 
ringing  in  the  memory.  Most  of  this  little  assemblage 
could  repeat  it  word  for  word.  They  only  waited  for 
Mrs.  Gregory  and  Lida  Schermerhorn,  before  Pat  Duffy 
laid  aside  his  pipe,  pulled  his  face  down  to  normal,  and 
began. 

"  '  I  see  be  the  pa-apers/  said  Mr.  Dooley,  '  that  Colo 
nel  Hinnery,  th'  man  that  sint  me  frind  Cap.  Dhry- 
fuss  to  th'  cage,  has  moved  on.  I  sup-pose  they'll  give 
th'  Cap.  a  new  thrile  now.' 

"  '  I  hope  they  won't/  said  Mr.  Hennesy.  'I  don't 
know  annything  about  it,  but  I  think  he's  guilty.  He's 
a  Jew.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  Mr.  Dooley,  '  ye'er  thoughts  on  this  sub 
ject  is  intherestin',  but  not  conclusive,  as  Dorsey  said  to 
th'  Pollack  that  thought  he  cud  lick  him.  Ye  have  a 
r-right  to  ye'er  opinyon,  an'  ye'll  hold  it  annyhow, 
whether  ye  have  a  r-right  to  it  or  not.  Like  most  of  ye'er 

360 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

fellow-citizens,  ye  start  impartial.  Ye  don't  know  anny- 
thing  about  th'  case.  If  ye  knew  annything,  ye'd  not 
have  an  opinyon  wan  way  or  th'  other.  They'se  never 
been  a  matter  come  up  in  my  time  that  th'  American 
people  was  so  sure  about  as  they  ar-re  about  th' 
Dhry-fuss  case.  They'se  not  a  polisman  in  this  coun- 
thry  that  can't  tell  ye  jus'  where  Dhry-fuss  was  whin  th' 
remains  iv  th'  poor  girl  was  found.  That's  because  th' 
thrile  was  secret.  If  'twas  an  open  thrile,  an'  ye  heerd 
th'  tisti-mony,  an'  knew  th'  language,  an'  saw  th'  safe 
afther  'twas  blown  open,  ye'd  be  puzzled,  but  ye'd  not 
care  a  rush  whether  Dhry-fuss  was  naked  in  a  cage  or 
takin'  tay  with  his  uncle  at  th'  Benny  Brith  Club. 

"  '  I  havn't  made  up  me  mind  whether  th'  Cap.  done 
th'  shootin'  or  not.  He  was  certainly  in  th'  neighbor 
hood  whin  th'  fire  started,  an'  th'  polis  dug  up  quite  a 
lot  iv  lead  pipe  in  his  back  yard.  But  it's  wan  thing  to 
suspect  a  man  iv  doin'  a  job  an'  another  thing  to  prove 
that  he  didn't.  Me  frind  Zola  thinks  he's  innocint,  an' 
he  raised  th'  diwle  at  th'  thrile.  Whin  th'  judge  come 
up  on  th'  bench  an'  opined  th'  court,  Zola  was  settin' 
down  below  with  th'  lawyers.  "  Let  us  proceed,"  says 
th'  impartial  an'  fair-minded  judge,  "  to  th'  thrile  iv  th' 
haynious  monsther,  Cap.  Dhry-fuss,"  he  says.  Up 
jumps  Zola,  an'  says  he,  in  Frinch :  "  Jackuse,"  he  says, 
which  is  a  hell  of  a  mane  thing  to  say  to  anny  man.  An' 
they  thrun  him  out. ' " 

At  this  juncture  of  the  reading  two  of  the  boys  slid  off 
their  seats  and  rolled  to  the  wall,  where  they  lay,  con 
vulsively  clutching  each  other,  while  Duffy  wiped  off 
his  glasses  and  went  on  : 

"  ' "  Judge,"  says  th'  attorney  f 'r  th'  definse,  "  an'  gen- 
tlemin  iv  th'  jury,"  he  says.  "  Ye're  a  liar,"  says  th' 
judge.  "  Cap.  ye're  guilty  an'  ye  know  it,"  he  says. 
"  Th'  decision  iv  th'  Coort  is  that  ye  be  put  in  a  cage, 
an'  sint  to  th'  Divvle's  own  island  f 'r  th'  r-rest  iv  ye'er 

361 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

life,"  he  says.  "  Let  us  pro-ceed  in  hearin'  iv  th'  tis- 
timony,"  he  says.  "  Call  all  th'  witnesses  at  wanst,  an' 
lave  thim  have  it  out  on  th'  flure,"  he  says.  Be  this  time 
Zola  has  come  back,  an'  he  jumps  up  an',  says  he, 
"  Jackuse,"  he  says.  An'  they  thrun  him  out ! 

'  "  Before  we  go  anny  farther,"  says  th'  lawyer  f 'r 
th'  definse,  "  I  wish  to  sarve  notice  that,  whin  this 
thrile  is  over,  1  intind,"  he  says,  "  to  wait  outside,"  he 
says,  "  an'  hammer  th'  honorable  Coort  into  an  omelet," 
he  says.  "  With  these  few  raymarks  1  will  close,"  he 
says.  "  Th'  Coort,"  says  th'  judge,  "  is  always  r-ready 
to  defind  th'  honor  iv  France,"  he  says ;  "  an'  if  th'  larned 
counsel  will  consint,"  he  says,  "  to  step  up  here  f 'r  a 
minyit,"  he  says,  "  th'  Coort'll  put  a  strangle  hold  on  him 
that  '11  not  do  him  a  bit  iv  good,"  he  says.  "  Ah  !"  he 
says,  "here's  me  ol'  frind  Pat  th'  Clam,"  he  says. 
"  Pat,"  he  says,  "  what  d'ye  know  about  this  case  ?" 
he  says.  "  None  iv  ye'er  business,"  says  Pat.  "  An 
swered  like  a  man  an'  a  sojer,"  says  th'  Coort.  "Jackuse  " 
says  Zola  fr'm  th'  dureway.  An'  they  thrun  him  out/  * 

"  Oh  my  !  Oh  my  !"  screamed  Lida  Schermerhorn, 
half  drowned  by  the  uncontrolled  howls  of  laughter 
from  the  others.  "  I  wonder  if  anybody  in  America 
realizes  how  deadly  funny  this  is  to  those  of  us  who  are 
over  here  in  the  thick  of  it  ?" 

"  And  the  French  nation  taking  themselves  so  mortal 
seriously,"  wailed  Rose,  holding  her  hand  against  her 
side. 

"  Go  on,  Duffy.  The  next  is  the  best  of  all,"  cried 
Shirley,  pounding  the  fellow  next  him,  who  was  getting 
hysterical. 

"  ' "  Call  Col.  Hinnery,"  says  th'  Coort !  "  He  ray-fuses 
to  answer."  "  Good.  Th'  case  is  now  clear.  Cap. 
forged  th'  will.  Th'  Coort  will  now  adjourn  f'r  dools,  an' 
all  ladin'  officers  iv  th'  ar-rmy  not  in  disgrace  already 
will  assimble  in  jail  an'  commit  suicide,"  he  says. 

362 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"Jackuse,"  says  Zola,  an'  started  f'r  th'  woods,  pursued 
be  his  fellow-editors. 

"  '  That's  all  1  know  about  th'  Dhry-f  uss  case,  an' 
that's  all  anny  man  knows.  Ye  didn't  know  as  much, 
Hennesy,  till  1  told  ye.  1  don't  know  whether  Cap.  stole 
th'  dog  or  not. 

"  '  What's  he  charged  with  ?'  Mr.  Hennesy  asked,  in 
bewilderment. 

"  ' "  I'll  niver  tell  ye,"  said  Mr.  Dooley.  "  It's  too  much 
to  ask." 

"  '  "  Well,  anny  how,"  said  Mr.  Hennesy,  "  he's  guilty. 
Ye  can  bet  on  that !" ' 

Townshend  and  Mrs.  Gregory  looked  at  each  other 
as  the  score  of  young  people  screamed  with  laughter 
over  this,  the  first  ray  of  humor  which  had  penetrated 
the  whole  hideous  affair.  To  be  sure,  the  French  press 
had  exhausted  itself  in  cruel  cartoons  and  biting,  trench 
ant  witticisms  which  cut  like  a  razor's  edge,  but  this 
point  of  view  was  wholly  new,  a  thoroughly  American 
jewel  in  spite  of  its  Irish  setting,  and  the  little  group  of 
expatriates  hailed  it  with  an  enthusiasm  of  appreciation 
which  held  in  it  also  a  trace  of  pathos  and  homesickness. 

*  What  makes  you  look  so  solemn,  Mr.  Townshend  ?" 
asked  Lida  Schermerhorn,  replacing  her  glasses,  which 
always  fell  off  when  she  laughed. 

"  There  is  something  solemn  to  think  about,  if  you 
only  knew  it,"  said  Townshend. 

"  Not  war  ?"  asked  Lida,  her  face  sober  in  an  instant. 

Everybody  held  his  breath  to  listen. 

Townshend  nodded,  and  clasped  his  knee,  rocking 
back  and  forth  on  a  painting-stool. 

"  Has  war  been  declared  ?  How  do  you  know  ?"  cried 
Jake  Dunlevy." 

"  It  is  posted  in  front  of  Cook's.  There  was  a  crowd, 
and  Miss  Hollenden  read  it  aloud.  Now,  then,  let's  have 
breakfast  1" 

363 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Twenty  paint-stained  caps  were  flung  into  the  air,  and 
a  shout  as  of  forty  voices  split  the  air. 

"  Glory  be  !"  roared  Pat  Duffy.  "  Now  we  can  all  go 
home  and  fight !" 

"  You'll  go,  Captain  Rose,  won't  you  ?"  asked  Dun- 
levy,  as  Rose,  covered  by  a  long,  tidy  nurse's  apron  of 
her  own  making,  broke  eggs  into  the  bowl  in  the  boy's 
lap. 

"  Go  ?  1  should  think  1  would  !  I'm  going  to  the 
front,  with  the  regiment.  I'm  going  as  a  nurse  !" 

"  Honest  ?  Oh,  1  say  !  Boys  !  D'ye  hear  that  ! 
Shirley's  sister  is  going  as  a  nurse  !" 

"  Hope  I'll  get  wounded  right  of!  !"  cried  Carpenter. 
"  I  begin  to  feel  it  coming  on  now  !" 

"  It's  chronic  heart  trouble  the  lad  has,"  said  Duffy. 
"  What's  the  '  first  aid  '  for  that  complaint,  Captain 
Rose  ?" 

"Action  !"  cried  Rose.  "And  hunger,  and  to  be  all 
night  in  the  rain  and  to  sleep  in  the  trenches  in  mo 
mentary  expectation  of  the  enemy's  fire." 

The  eager  faces  sobered  under  the  girl's  words. 
'  "  War  isn't  all  pie,"  observed  Dunlevy.     "  I  know 
that !" 

"Are  you  all  going  ?"  asked  Rose,  pausing,  with  a  long- 
handled  skillet  in  her  hand  to  look  around  the  room 
wistfully.  "  Really  and  truly,  are  you  all  going  ?" 

"  Every  mother's  son  of  us  !"  declared  Shirley.  "  Every 
man  in  this  room !" 

Rose  met  Townshend's  eye,  and  he  smiled  and  nodded 
his  head  imperceptibly.  The  eager  blood  rushed  into 
the  girl's  face,  and  a  soft,  dewy  look  came  into  her  eyes, 
that  look  which,  when  a  man  sees  it  in  the  eyes  of  the 
woman  he  loves,  gives  him  the  feeling  that  it  would 
be  easy  to  die  for  her,  if  only  to  see  that  indescribable 
look  once  more. 

To  Townshend,  Rose's  eyes  had  always  been  the  epit- 

364 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ome,  the  speaking  embodiment  of  courage — that  curi 
ously  misunderstood  woman  -  courage  which  dares  to 
face  the  enemy's  fire  from  men's  disapproving  glances 
and  other  women's  deadly  tongues — that  courage  which 
he  valued  above  every  other  trait  in  the  feminine  char 
acter,  because  it  was  so  rare,  so  chivalrous,  and,  above 
all,  because  it  sifted  one's  friends  and  enemies,  weighing 
them  afterwards  so  neatly  that  one  could  tell  the  coward 
and  poltroon  from  the  fidus  Achates,  whose  approval 
meant  a  courage  second  to  none.  Therefore  the  very 
fact  that  Townshend  valued  Rose's  courage  above  even 
her  sweetness  and  beauty,  and  forgave  her  very  obvious 
faults  because  of  it,  proved  the  bigness  of  the  man's 
character,  for  it  takes  no  small  amount  of  man-courage 
to  stand  up  to  a  woman  like  that,  because  there  never 
is  any  telling  where  her  next  step  will  lead. 

In  Townshend's  case  it  was  not  so  much  his  courage 
which  led  him  to  love  this  characteristic  in  Rose  as  it 
was  his  utter  unconsciousness  of  self.  He  never  stopped 
to  think,  as  men  of  smaller  vanity  might,  that  in  owning 
himself  her  knight  and  coming  to  her  rescue,  no  matter 
where  she  led,  she  might  very  possibly  make  him  ridicu 
lous  in  the  eyes  of  others.  He  was  not  taking  himself 
into  account.  He  only  knew  that  of  all  the  other  women 
he  had  admired,  fancied,  even  been  more  warmly  at 
tracted  to,  he  had  in  some  intangible  way  felt  their 
lack — that  deep  down  in  their  hearts  his  aims  and  theirs 
were  not  one — that  in  case  of  storm  and  stress  he  did  not 
dare  to  trust  his  soul  into  their  keeping.  Confidence  in 
the  calibre  of  their  courage  was  just  the  one  thing  need 
ful  to  turn  his  admiration  into  love  ;  but  in  his  feeling 
for  Rose  this  element  of  perfect  trust  was  pre-eminent. 
Before  he  had  ever  looked  into  her  face,  while  he  listened 
to  that  conversation,  with  the  screen  between  himself 
and  her  beauty,  when  she  had  so  unconsciously  revealed 
her  nature,  he  had  given  his  soul  into  her  keeping,  and 

365 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

whether  he  ever  won  her  or  not,  he  firmly  believed  that 
she  saw  and  understood,  and  that  it  was  well  with  him. 

The  longer  he  knew  Rose  the  more  he  realized  that 
while  as  yet  she  had  got  off  pretty  well,  considering  some 
of  the  things  she  had  dared,  yet  the  time  would  come 
when  she  would  need  her  knight.  In  such  an  emergency 
no  brother,  no  matter  how  devoted,  no  father,  no  mat 
ter  how  powerful,  would  serve.  It  must  be  the  man  to 
whom  she  was  the  one  woman  in  the  world  who  could 
defend  her,  and  if  he  ever  prayed  at  all,  Townshend 
would  have  prayed  that  when  the  time  of  her  need  came 
he  might  be  at  hand  ! 

He  watched  her  teaching  those  young  fellows  to  cook 
and  to  sew  on  buttons,  putting  her  whole  mind  to  it  as 
if  nothing  else  in  the  world  mattered  just  now,  and  he 
realized  that  everythng  Rose  Hollenden  did  counted  for 
something. 

"  If  you  are  really  going,  you  must  be  useful,"  she 
said.  "  There  is  nothing  more  helpless  than  a  helpless 
soldier.  It's  all  very  well  to  be  strong  and  kind  and 
willing  to  carry  the  other  fellow's  gun  on  a  long  march, 
but  to  know  how  to  mix  eggs  and  milk  and  sugar  into  a 
little  custard  when  he  is  too  ill  to  eat  pork,  or  to  know 
how  to  make  coffee,  is  something  that  you've  all  got  to 
learn,  if  you  want  a  certificate  from  me !  Many  are 
the  times  when  a  little  squad  of  men,  cut  off  from  the 
rest,  have  got  ill  from  not  knowing  how  to  cook  the  food 
they  had." 

"Oh,  golly !  I  put  the  yolk  into  all  those  whites  !" 
cried  Dunlevy,  looking  up  at  Rose  with  real  fright. 

"  It  was  very  careless,  but  hold  still  and  I'll  dip  it 
out  with  this  spoon.  They  won't  beat  up  as  light,  be 
cause  1  can't  get  all  those  little  yellow  streaks  out,  but 
it  isn't  spoiled.  Now  beat  them." 

Dunlevy  beat  with  such  force  that  those  nearest  him 
got  a  little  in  their  faces. 

366 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Hi,  there,  Dunlevy  !"  cried  Carpenter,  who  was  slic 
ing  onions  and  weeping  over  it,  "  that's  no  bass-drum 
you  have  there.  Take  back  the  eggs  that  thou  gavest, 
and  keep  'em  all  in  the  bowl." 

"  Now,  then  !"  cried  Rose.  "  Sit  down,  all  of  you ! 
Lida,  take  the  plates  from  under  the  stove  and  get  ready. 
The  skillet  is  just  right.  Did  you  see  how  much  butter  I 
put  in,  Mr.  Dunlevy  ?  Pour  the  eggs  in— careful  I  Now, 
Mr.  Carpenter,  drop  the  onions  in  slowly  while  I  stir — 
there  !  See  it  begin  to  cook  ?  Go  and  sit  down,  for  I'm 
going  to  serve  you  all  from  the  skillet,  to  have  it  hot !" 

"  Oh,  my  word,  Captain  Rose  !  This  beats  every 
thing  you've  done  yet !  And  it's  so  easy,  too  !" 

A  chorus  of  groans  and  twenty  pairs  of  eyes  rolled  up 
to  the  ceiling,  and  twenty  pairs  of  hands  crossed  in  ec 
stasy  as  they  tasted  Rose's  omelette  aux  onions  I 

Rose  looked  down  at  them  with  a  tenderness  which 
shone  in  her  soft  eyes.  They  were  going  to  war — these 
dear  boys  of  hers — were  giving  up  careers,  going  to  risk 
health  and  life  to  follow  the  flag.  They  did  not  realize 
the  seriousness  of  it.  They  looked  forward  to  a  battle 
as  if  it  were  a  picnic  of  some  new  and  exciting  kind, 
and  their  eager  faces  were  radiant  with  enthusiasm  at 
the  prospect. 

Even  Marion  Gregory  reached  out  and  caught  Rose's 
hand  as  she  went  by. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  whispered  Rose. 

"  Oh,  Rose,  my  darling !  I  am  afraid  I  can't  speak 
of  it  without  crying,  but — but  Oscar — " 

"  Oh,  Marion  !     Not  really  ?" 

Marion  nodded,  her  throat  fluttering  ominously 

"  His  letters  !  You  should  read  them  !  It's  all- 
coming — back — " 

"  Now  !  Now  !  Be  careful !  Don't  talk  about  it ! 
As  if  you  didn't  know,  you  silly  cat !  that  it  was  bound 
to  end  this  way  !  Do  you  suppose  that  any  man,  hav- 

367 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ing  once  had  you,  could  give  you  up,  you  big,  beautiful 
thing  !  I  could  cry  myself,  I'm  so  happy  over  it,  but 
I'll  spill  hot  coffee  on  you  if  you  do  it  !" 

"  Rose,  there  isn't  any  cream  for  the  coffee,"  whis 
pered  Shirley  in  her  ear.  "  Where's  your  purse  ?  I'll 
skate  down  and  get  some." 

"  I  brought  some  with  me  ;  it's  on  the  window-sill. 
Go  sit  down  again  and  I'll  get  it.  But  haven't  you 
any  money,  Shirley  ?" 

"  Got  two  francs  !  I  lent  my  last  to  Dunlevy  last 
night.  You  know  it  cost  a  pile  to  get  these  Mausers." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  wait  to  see  if  they  aren't  going 
to  arm  you  with  Mausers  ?" 

"  Townshend  says  they  aren't !  The  government  is 
going  to  arm  the  men  with  Springfield  rifles,  and  use 
black  powder  !" 

"  Townshend  !"  repeated  Rose.  "  What  does  he  know 
about  it,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Know  about  it  !  Why,  great  Scott,  Rose  !  Hasn't 
he  told  you  ?  But  of  course  he  wouldn't !  Even  old 
Sharp  got  it  unofficially  from  the  War  Department. 
Why,  Townshend  has  presented  the  government  with 
a  light  battery,  and  has  submitted  plans  to  the  Secre 
tary  of  War  to  organize  a  regiment  of  Rough  Riders  out 
of  his  cowboy  friends,  and  he'll  see  to  it  that  at  least 
one  regiment  of  volunteers  is  properly  equipped,  if  he 
has  to  arm  them  himself !  He  is  going  to  be  a  cap 
tain,  and  he's  going  to  try  to  get  me  in  as  a  lieuten 
ant.  If  he  can't  make  it,  I'm  going  to  enlist.  He 
sails  day  after  to-morrow  from  Cherbourg  to  recruit 
for  it  !" 

"  Sails  !"  cried  Rose. 

"  Yes,  sir-ree  !  Sails  !  Why,  he's  the  WThole  Thing, 
if  you  only  knew  it  !  It's  so  funny  to  me  that  you  don't 
like  him,  Rose  !" 

Rose  flashed  a  look  into  her  brother's  eyes. 

368 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Did  you  say  you  wanted  some  cream  ?"  she  said, 
irrelevantly. 

Shirley  went  and  sat  down  by  Lida. 

"  How's  the  coffee  ?"  asked  Dunlevy,  anxiously.  "  I 
made  it." 

"Out  of  sight!" 

"  Best  I  ever  tasted  !" 

Dunlevy  flushed  with  pleasure.  He  was  the  genius 
of  the  group  of  students — the  "  Little  Billee  "  of  the  Lat 
in  quarter,  so  slender  and  girlish-looking  that  it  would 
take  influence  to  get  him  admitted  to  the  ranks  of  the 
army  at  all,  but  touched  with  that  divine  spark  of  ce 
lestial  fire  in  his  painting  which  we  call  genius. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  howl  of  rage  from  Pat  Duffy, 
who  emerged  from  the  pages  of  the  London  Times  and 
slammed  the  paper  down  on  the  floor. 

"  Namer  Gord,  what's  the  matter,  Pat  ?"  asked  Lida 
Schermerhorn. 

"  Oh,  if  you  and  Captain  Rose  weren't  here,  I  could 
give  you  my  unvarnished  opinion  of  the  New  York  cor 
respondent  of  this  blasted  sheet !" 

"  What's  he  said  now  ?"  asked  Shirley,  bristling. 

"  Say  ?  He  brays  for  two  columns  here,  purporting 
to  tell  England  how  Americans  feel  about  the  war,  and 
lies  seventeen  to  the  dozen  all  the  way  through  !" 

"  Is  it  any  worse  than  what  he  prattled  about  yester 
day  ?" 

"  No,  just  about  like  it,  but  I  nearly  had  a  hemorrhage 
over  that  !" 

"  Why  don't  they  fire  him?"  growled  Dunlevy. 

"  Because  the  English  don't  know  whether  they  are 
being  lied  to  or  not  when  it  comes  to  things  American." 

"  And  wouldn't  care,  if  they  did  !"  cried  Shirley. 

"  I  wonder  if  Americans  know  what  he  writes  about 
them  ?"  said  Rose. 

"  Naw  !"  sneered  Duffy. 
2  A  369 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  They'd  beat  him  to  a  pulp  if  they  did !" 

"  Well,  why  does  the  Times  print  what  he  writes  ?" 
cried  Lida. 

"  It's  a  shame  !"  said  Rose,  suddenly.  "  Nobody  will 
ever  know  how  hard  it  has  been  for  us  over  here  to  be 
patriotic  over  the  preparations  for  this  war.  Not  a  foreign 
newspaper  that  I  have  read  has  given  us  so  much  as  one 
pat  on  the  head,  or  has  taken  us  seriously,  or  believes 
us  when  we  say  that  we  don't  want  Cuba — we  only  want 
to  free  the  Cubans.  Even  England,  who  ought  to  be 
our  best  friend,  laughs  in  our  faces  when  we  declare  it. 
That's  because  England  judges  everybody  by  herself. 
She  couldn't  do,  and  never  did,  such  a  thing.  When  she 
goes  to  war,  it's  always  to  grab  some  more  territory — 
she's  got  the  habit.  And  all  she  has  to  read  about  us  is 
flavored  to  her  taste  by  the  New  York  correspondent  of 
the  representative  paper  of  the  world,  so  she  never  by 
any  accident  gets  the  real  body  of  American  people  be 
fore  her  mind's  eye.  It  has  never  been  fairly  stated  by 
the  foreign  press  that  the  dignified  finding  of  the  inves 
tigating  committee  of  the  Maine  gave  Spain  the  oppor 
tunity  to  apologize,  offer  proper  payment,  and  accept 
our  almost  too  courteous  report  with  at  least  an  equal 
courtesy.  They  don't  give  any  of  our  side,  or  write  of 
our  long  suffering  and  great  provocation.  They  don't 
print  a  single  line  of  the  heart-rending  state  of  affairs  in 
Cuba  that  we  would  be  a  nation  of  demons  if  we  could 
withstand.  No !  They  read  and  believe  the  statements 
of  the  American  correspondent  of  the  Great  and  Only 
Times  !" 

A  roar  of  rage  greeted  Rose's  impassioned  speech. 

Duffy  was  actually  crying  with  fury.  Ah,  nobody 
will  ever  know  what  those  on  the  other  side  went  through 
with  during  those  anxious  months  ! 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  the  English  don't  care  to  hear 
the  right  of  the  thing  !  They  aren't  interested  !  They 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

never  take  us  seriously — damn  'em !"  he  said,  wiping  his 
eyes.  And  even  the  girls  did  not  reprove  him  for  his 
emphasis. 

"  Tell  you  what>"  said  Townshend,  suddenly,  "  when 
we  have  licked  the  Spaniards,  as  we  are  going  to  do 
inside  of  six  months — " 

"  Hurray  !"  shouted  his  hearers. 

"  And  when  we  have  shown  them  the  strength  of  our 
navy  —  which  not  even  the  Americans  suspect  —  and 
when  we  have  taught  even  Germany  what  target-prac 
tice  will  do — all  this  is  going  to  have  one  grand  effect 
that  will  repay  us  for  all  the  cost  of  the  war." 

"  What's  that  ?"  cried  Lida,  a-quiver  with  excitement. 

"  It's  going  to  make  England  respect  us — a  thing  she 
has  never  yet  dreamed  of  doing  !" 

A  storm  of  applause,  with  stampings  and  clattering 
of  glasses  and  plates,  greeted  Townshend's  words. 

"  Even  Carteret,"  said  Shirley,  "  and  he's  the  nicest 
Englishman  I  know,  asked  me  if  most  of  our  journalism 
wasn't  on  the  order  of  the  yellow  1" 

"  Never  mind  !"  said  Townshend.  "  We  can  afford  to 
wait." 

"  To  think  of  going  back  to  America  !"  said  Rose. 

"  Will  your  father  go  too  ?"  asked  Dunlevy. 

"  Of  course  he  will !  Why,  Shirley  and  I  are  both 
going !  He  wouldn't  stay  over  here  alone  !" 

She  glanced  down  at  her  black  gow<i,  and  tears  came 
into  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of  poor  Maria. 

When  it  came  time  to  go,  Shirley  decided  to  return  with 
Rose  and  consult  his  father.  He  was  very  anxious  to 
sail  with  Townshend  on  Saturday.  The  government 
had  requisitioned  the  four  ships  of  the  American  Line, 
and  the  North  German  Lloyd  office  was  besieged  with 
Americans  wanting  to  get  home  before  hostilities  actu 
ally  commenced. 

37i 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  I  wish  you'd  give  me  this  horse,  Rosie,"  said  Shirley, 
as  they  flew  along.  "  He  is  a  wonder  !" 

"  To  ride,  dear  ?  Oh,  I  think  I  wouldn't  take  such  a 
vicious  beast.  You  may  want  to  do  some  shooting,  and 
it  would  take  all  of  any  one  man's  attention  to  ride 
'  Paris.'  I'll  willingly  give  him  to  you  if  you  really 
want  him." 

"  You're  a  darling  girl,  Rose  !  I  do  want  him  like 
thunder.  He's  the  only  horse  I  know  of  that's  a  match 
for  Minnehaha." 

"  Take  him  and  welcome,  then,"  said  Rose,  blushing 
with  pleasure  under  her  brother's  praise.  "  You  ride 
so  well,  I  oughtn't  to  be  afraid." 

Shirley  grinned  at  her. 

"  You  are  a  funny  little  mother,  Rose  !  Here  you  are 
actually  afraid  to  have  me  ride  a  horse  that  you  have 
driven  constantly  for  six  months." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  am  silly,"  said  Rose ;  "  but  oh,  Shir 
ley,  let  me  love  you  all  I  want  to !  You're  all  I  have 
in  the  world  that's  really  mine  !" 

"  Lord,  Rose  !  Just  let  her  go  always  when  you  feel 
the  fit  coming  on.  You  can  take  me  up  in  your  lap 
and  rock  me  to  sleep  if  you  want  to  1" 

Rose  laughed,  but  turned  her  head  away  to  hide  her 
quivering  lips. 

"  I  believe  I'm  really  jealous  of  Lida,"  she  said.  "  You 
are  so  awfully  in  love  with  her.  You  let  her  do  all  the 
little  things  for  you  that  I  used  to  do  !" 

"Oh,  Rose!  "Oh,  I  say!  What  in  the  world—"  he 
broke  off,  helplessly. 

"Well,  you  do!" 

"  Jealous  !  My  sister  jealous  of  my —  Oh,  God ! 
give  me  strength  to  live  this  down  !  And  I  thought 
I  knew  girls !  Well,  if  ever  I —  Look  here,  Rose. 
You're  such  a  brick !  I'm  blest  if  I  know  whether 
you  are  in  earnest  or  not.  I  say,  Rose  !  You're  not 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

well.  Do  you  have  a  roaring  in  your  ears  and  a  sink 
ing  feeling  under  your  belt,  and  do  you  see  spots  on  the 
sun  ?" 

"  I'm  perfectly  well.  You  can  make  fun  of  me  if  you 
like,  but  how  would  you  like  it,  if  you  were  a  girl,  to  see 
your  brother,  whom  you  perfectly  worshipped,  go  all  to 
pieces  over  another  girl  and  forget  you  I"  cried  Rose, 
pulling  up  the  chestnut  in  front  of  their  hotel  with  such  a 
jerk  that  he  tossed  his  head  excitedly. 

Shirley  saw  that  Rose  meant  what  she  said.  He  held 
up  his  arms  and  gave  her  a  great  hug  as  he  swung  her 
down. 

"  You  are  the  best  and  dearest  sister  a  fellow  ever  had, 
and  the  very  prettiest  girl  I  know  !  There  now  !  And 
I  love  you  no  end,  and  I'm  coming  in  to  kiss  you  this 
very  minute  1" 

"  Oh,  Shirley,  really,  do  you  mean  all  that  ?" 

"  Cross  my  heart  !     And  that  isn't  half  I  do  mean  !" 

He  watched  her  fly  up  the  steps,  smiling  brilliantly 
down  on  him  from  the  doorway. 

"  I'm  a  selfish  dog,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  have  neg 
lected  her ;  but  she's  so  brave,  I  didn't  stop  to  think — 
hang  it  all  !  Fellows  ought  to  make  love  to  their  sisters 
more !" 

Together  Rose  and  Shirley  found  their  father  in  the 
library,  little  suspecting  that  the  first  battle  of  the  Span 
ish-American  war  was  to  be  fought  by  them  then  and 
there. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HER  kisses  had  produced  an  effect  so  admirably  adapt 
ed  to  her  plans  that  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  early  de 
cided  to  use  them  more  freely.  The  result  was  that  for 
two  months  Mr.  Hollenden's  brain  had  reeled.  The 
comtesse  had  not  been  so  amused  for  years  as  she  was 
by  the  progress  and  methods  of  the  American's  court 
ship.  It  was  so  delightfully  pastoral.  The  marquise, 
her  mother,  haughtily  disapproved  of  the  length  of 
time  Eug£nie  permitted  the  affair  to  continue,  but,  not 
daring  to  admit  that  this  exquisite  deviltry  was  in  the 
least  interesting,  Eugenie  bought  her  mother's  com 
plaisance  by  declaring  that  to  precipitate  a  demand  for 
the  tapestries  now  would  ruin  everything. 

Affairs  were  in  a  critical  state  all  around.  Raoul  re 
mained  in  London  at  his  sister's  imperious  command. 
In  spite  of  her  ascendency  over  Mr.  Hollenden,  she 
never  felt  sure  that  one  of  those  hare-brained  Americans 
would  not  shoot  him  down  at  sight.  If  Shirley  didn't, 
she  dreaded  that  Rose  would — she  even  feared  Lida 
Schermerhorn  !  The  eyes  of  the  American  girls  spoke 
to  her  quaking  soul  of  both  courage  and  revenge.  There 
fore  she  filled  her  letters  with  warnings,  and  the  French 
man's  native  prudence  completed  her  work.  He  wore 
deep  mourning  for  Maria,  and  his  distinguished  ap 
pearance,  with  his  conspicuous  band  of  black  on  the 
sleeve  of  his  light  coat,  got  him  much  attention  at  the 
places  where  his  mourning  permitted  him  to  attend.  He 
sold  some  of  the  jewels  which  he  recovered  on  Maria's 

374 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

body,  and  cursed  his  folly  in  not  attempting  to  save  he* 
jewel-box.  The  famous  pearls  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea.  But  Eugenie  was  deeply  touched  when  Raoul's 
gratitude  prompted  him  to  send  her  a  diamond  brooch 
of  Maria's — reset  so  that  the  Hollenden  family  might 
not  recognize  the  stones. 

Mr.  Hollenden,  much  to  her  annoyance,  confined  his 
gifts  to  flowers,  and  it  required  several  carefully  planned 
conversations  and  artful  hints  before  he  discovered  that 
jewels  would  be  accepted.  The  comtesse  was  often  quite 
exhausted  by  the  fatigue  of  the  artlessness  she  forced 
herself  to  practise  upon  the  American. 

Sometimes,  after  he  had  got  away  from  her,  he  almost 
suspected  her  of  being  clever.  He  thought  it  marvellous 
that  she  never  quite  permitted  him  to  declare  himself. 
He  made  numberless  attempts,  but  each  time,  although 
her  fingers  fairly  tingled  for  the  tapestries,  the  comtesse 
pushed  his  declaration  a  little  further  into  the  future. 
She  had  learned,  through  a  mischievous  fellow-student 
of  Shirley's  at  Julian's,  of  the  famous  military  studio, 
and  of  Rose's  enthusiasm  over  it.  It  was  just  possible, 
the  Frenchwoman  shrewdly  thought,  that  Rose  might 
go  to  America  with  her  brother  when  war  was  de 
clared.  If  only  she,  Madame  de  Brissy,  could  have  Mr. 
Hollenden  in  Paris  alone !  But  she  dreaded  the  influ 
ence  of  Rose  and  Shirley. 

Therefore  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  in  Paris  was  await 
ing  the  action  of  the  American  Congress  at  Washington 
with  an  eagerness  for  which  there  was  no  outward  rea 
son.  The  declaration  of  war  would  decide  things.  It 
would  show  her  where  she  stood. 

She  took  care  to  discover  that  love  of  country  had  no 
part  in  Mr.  Hollenden's  make-up,  and  her  discussion  of 
American  politics  and  of  America's  policy  did  not  tend 
to  create  any.  Her  witty  tongue  flung  many  a  gibe 
which  lingered  in  Mr.  Hollenden's  memory,  and  which 

375 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

he  repeated  at  the  club  as  his  own,  until  some  of  the 
Americans  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him. 

This  relaxation  was  the  only  one  she  permitted  her 
self,  for  her  usual  subject  for  a  display  of  wit  flew  quite 
over  Mr.  Hollenden's  head.  The  Frenchwoman  decided 
that  to  be  courted  by  an  American  was,  in  a  sense,  de 
cidedly  stupid.  She  never  knew  that  sometimes  Mr. 
Hollenden  caught  her  hidden  meaning,  but  repudiated 
his  interpretation,  and  blamed  his  man's  mind  for  the 
intruding  thought.  To  this  Western  man,  who  had 
spent  his  young  manhood  in  mining  camps,  where  a 
woman  was  so  rare  as  to  be  almost  a  goddess,  the  idea  of 
a  lady  stooping  to  unchastity  was  beyond  his  ken.  It 
was  the  one  sentimental  spot  in  the  man's  hard,  shrewd 
nature.  His  one  charity  consisted  in  discrediting  in 
his  own  mind  newspaper  accounts  of  fashionable  women 
who  were  indiscreet.  But  as  he  never  by  any  chance 
spoke  of  it — nor  even  thought  of  it  without  a  blush — it 
was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  even  a  Frenchwoman 
as  clever  as  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  should  overlook  it 
entirely.  She  laid  his  non-recognition  of  her  double 
meanings  to  stupidity  or  ignorance,  and  amused  her 
self  by  teaching  this  man  what  it  was  to  find  himself  in 
love  with  a  woman  of  a  deeply  emotional  nature,  who 
had  known  what  love  was,  and  who  now  used  this  fatal 
knowledge  to  the  one  end  of  maddening  an  inoffensive 
old  man.  Her  arts  were  numberless,  her  caprices  fas 
cinating,  her  magnetism  dizzying.  She  jumped  to  ex 
tremes  of  heat  and  cold  with  a  suddenness  which  set 
his  brain  to  spinning.  He  never  knew  whether  she 
would  receive  him  or  not.  One  moment  she  was  in  his 
arms,  pleading  for  his  kisses,  which,  in  his  bewilder 
ment,  he  wondered  why  she  took  the  trouble  to  de 
mand,  he  was  so  eager  to  bestow  them.  The  next 
moment,  in  tears,  she  begged  him  to  leave  her,  never 
to  return.  He  feebly  blinked  his  eyes  at  her  breath- 

376 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

less  changes.     But  she  gave  him  something  to  think 
about. 

Never  had  Mr.  Hollenden  met  such  a  woman.  In  all 
his  life  he  had  only  known  two,  and  those  two  he  had 
married.  He  did  not  care  for  women,  and  it  had  always 
been  a  sort  of  dumb  surprise  to  him  that  he  had  married 
at  all.  He  was  thoroughly  a  man's  man,  but  that  sort 
of  a  man  is  often  just  the  one  to  prove  putty  in  the  hands 
of  the  worst  of  women. 

So  when  the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  went  out  of  her  way 
to  captivate  Mr.  Hollenden,  she  found  her  victory  al 
most  too  easy.  She  enslaved  him.  His  belief  in  her 
was  pathetic. 

To  him,  therefore,  rent  as  he  was  by  conflicting  emo 
tions,  the  news  of  the  declaration  of  war  came  with  a 
shock.  He  was  so  certain  that  Shirley  would  go  that 
he  was  not  surprised  when  the  two  presented  themselves 
at  the  library  door,  on  the  day  of  the  breakfast  in  the 
studio.  He  knew  what  it  portended. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  balancing  on  his  heels  and  toes  be 
fore  the  fire,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him — "  well, 
they've  done  it  at  last !  The  fools  !  The  whole  of 
Cuba  isn't  worth  the  death  of  one  American  soldier  1" 

"  That  may  be  true,"  said  Shirley,  "  but,  now  that 
America  has  declared  war,  there  is  only  one  thing  for 
Americans  to  do,  and  that  is  to  stand  by  the  government. 
The  time  for  unfavorable  criticism  is  over." 

His  father  tilted  his  face  downward  and  surveyed 
him  over  the  top  of  his  glasses. 

"  Are  you  reproving  your  father,  young  man  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir  !  1  was  just  expressing  my  opinion.  But 
if  men  who  hold  views  like  yours  put  them  into  print,  you 
will  find  that  the  war  will  be  prolonged — that's  all.  It 
happened  so  in  the  Civil  War." 

"  Well,  in  the  Civil  War  1  held  the  same  views,"  said 
Mr.  Hollenden,  "  and  1  expressed  them  !" 

377 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Then,"  said  Shirley,  undutifully,  with  his  face  grow 
ing  very  red,  "  you  were  what  they  called  a  '  copper 
head  !'  " 

"  So  1  was/'  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  amiably.  "  But  I've 
been  called  worse  names  than  that  without  being  hurt 
by  them,  and  I  was  too  smart  to  go  and  be  shot  at.  When 
1  was  drafted  1  bought  a  substitute  and  sent  him.  He 
was  killed.  Then  they  wanted  me  so  badly  that  they 
drafted  me  again,  but  business  was  pretty  brisk  just 
then,  and  1  hadn't  got  any  warmer  love  for  cold  steel,  so 
1  bought  another  soldier  and  sent  him.  He  died  of  fever. 
That's  the  way  I  fight.  I'd  have  been  dead  twice  if  I'd 
gone  myself  !" 

"  Well,  sir,  1  hope  you  have  no  objection  to  my  going," 
said  Shirley,  hastily,  in  order  to  break  off  the  narrative. 

"  1  have  every  objection,  but  1  shall  put  no  obstacle  in 
your  way.  1  shall  only  impose  one  condition,  and  that 
is  that  if  you  live  through  it  you  will  come  back  to  us 
here.  1  have  been  separated  from  my  family  long 
enough.  I  want  you  and  Lida  to  live  near  us." 

" But,  father !"  cried  Rose,  "aren't  you — aren't  we  all 
going  home  ?" 

"  Home  ?    Where  do  you  call  home  ?" 

"  Why — America  !  Always  !  Surely,  dear  father, 
you  will  take  me  back  when  my  country  is  at  war  ?" 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Shirley  is  a  man 
and  can  do  as  he  pleases,  but  I  want  you  here  with  me — 
for  several  reasons." 

He  paused  suddenly,  fearing  that  he  had  gone  too  far. 
He  glanced  down  and  colored.  Rose  looked  at  him 
with  such  reproach  in  her  eyes  that  he  coughed  ner 
vously. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  tremblingly,  "  what  are  those  rea 
sons  ?  Surely  you  don't  mean — yes  !  let  me  speak  ! — 
you  can't  mean  that — the — the — " 

"  I  mean  this,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  straightening  him- 

378 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

self  and  tucking  his  thumb  into  the  armhole  of  his  waist 
coat — "  you  might  as  well  face  it —  1  am  going  to  marry 
the  Comtesse  de  Brissy  !" 

There  was  a  breathless  silence  between  his  two  listen 
ers.  In  spite  of  everything,  Rose  had  not  really  credited 
her  own  fears.  She  thought  the  comtesse  was  only 
playing  with  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Not  really,  father  ?"  said  she,  in  a  low  tone.  *  Has 
she  said  so  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?"  demanded  Mr.  Hollenden,  evading  the 
question.  Yet  it  irritated  him. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why  not !"  said  Shirley,  facing  his  father. 
"  Because  her  brother  killed — murdered — your  daughter ! 
That's  '  why  not ' !" 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort !"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  reddening 
angrily.  "  1  was  afraid  of  it  at  first,  1  will  confess,  but  1 
told  you  of  the  cablegram  the  comtesse  showed  me. 
Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  the  state  of  Raoul's  hands. 
He  could  have  saved  no  one  !" 

"  He  could  have  died  trying,"  said  Shirley,  shortly. 
"  He  does  well  to  skulk  in  London,  for  I'll  shoot  him  the 
first  time  1  lay  my  eyes  on  him,  and  he  knows  it  1" 

"  Then  you  would  be  hanged  for  unjustifiable  homi 
cide,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden,  coolly,  "  for  you  couldn't  prove 
one  single  thing  that  you  suspect,  and,  in  addition,  you 
would  find  yourself  in  the  clutches  of  French  law." 

Shirley  looked  at  his  father  with  ill-disguised  con 
tempt.  He  had  Southern  blood  in  his  veins. 

"  Your  code  of  honor  is  a  singular  one,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  Have  you  no  intention  of  avenging  Maria's  death  ?" 

"  You  two  are  just  like  your  mother.  She  was  high- 
strung  and  hifalutin,  and  always  wanted  me  to — " 

"  Father  !"  cried  Rose,  "  you  must  spare  my  mother's 
memory,  at  least  in  my  hearing  !  It  is  shame  enough 
that  you  can  wish  to  put  that  wicked  Frenchwoman  in 
her  place.  With  your  own  hand  you  have  torn  down  the 

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THE    EXPATRIATES 

ideal  I  had  built  of  you.  Please  let  me  worship  her  as  I 
remember  her — in  peace." 

"  Rose,  1  have  never  spoken  sharply  to  you  in  my  life 
— have  I  ?  But  if  you  speak  disrespectfully  of  the 
woman  who — it  may  sound  foolish  to  you  young  people 
— who  think  of  me  as  an  old,  white-haired  man — but  I 
believe  if  ever  a  woman  was  worshipped,  she  is,  and 
by  me.  You  must  respect  her." 

Rose  was  silent.  She  felt  that  her  father  was  being 
deceived  and  played  with. 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  when  you  are  to  marry  her  ?" 
she  said,  at  last. 

"  Whenever  she  will.     The  sooner  the  better  !" 

"  You  are  quite  decided  ?" 

"  Quite  r 

"  Then  I  hope  you  will  not  blame  me  too  bitterly  for 
what  I  have  decided,"  said  Rose.  "  I  will  not  live  in  the 
same  house  with  her,  nor  even  remain  to  see  her  in 
stalled  in  my  mother's  place.  I  shall  go  to  America 
with  Shirley." 

*  Go  to  America  with  Shirley  ?"  stammered  Mr.  Hol- 
lenden.     *  What  for  ?    Are  you  going  to  war,  too  ?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  to  do  just  that.  I'm  going  as  a 
nurse.  I  made  up  my  mind  the  night  the  Maine 
was  blown  up,  but  1  have  not  spoken  of  it  until  to- 
day." 

"  You're  going  to  leave  me — to  desert  me — if  I  marry 
the  comtesse  ?"  repeated  her  father. 

*  I  am,"  said  Rose,  quietly. 

*  And  you,  Shirley  ?    You  won't  come  back  to  Paris 
to  live  after  you  are  married  ?" 

Shirley  shook  his  head. 
"  1  couldn't,  father,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Hollenden  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  then  his 
eyes  fell  and  he,  studied  the  rug  thoughtfully. 

*  You  make  it  very  hard  for  me,"  he  said.     "  You 

380 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

make  me  choose  between  my  children  and — my  wife. 
But  1  choose — my  wife." 

"  I  am  sorry,  dear  father,  for  your  sake,"  said  Rose, 
earnestly.  "  1  am  afraid  she  is  too  much  like  her  brother 
and  too  thoroughly  French  for  you  to  be  happy  with  her. 
But  if  anything  goes  wrong  with  you — ever  ! — and  you 
want  me,  Til  come.  The  only  thing  1  ask  of  you  is  to 
realize  how  Shirley  and  I  feel.  It  isn't  that  we  simply 
don't  like  her — we  hate  her  !  We  couldn't  breathe  in  the 
same  house  with  her.  Forgive  me,  but  I  had  to  tell 
you.  And  then — the  war  and  all  my  friends  going — I 
must  go  too.  It's  in  my  blood  !" 

"  Is  Lida  going  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden.  "  I'm  very 
fond  of  that  girl." 

"  Yes.     Lida  and  Marion  and  Mr.  Townshend — " 

"  Townshend  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  twenty  boys  from  Julian's,  and  Shirley  and 
I!"  cried  Rose. 

"  When  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  On  Saturday  from  Cherbourg,  on  the  North  German 
Lloyd  !" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THEY  sailed  on  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  der  Grosse — 
"  Billy  the  Grocer/'  as  Lida  Schermerhorn  disrespect 
fully  named  the  ship — and  a  more  eager,  enthusiastic 
little  band  never  turned  their  faces  homeward. 

To  Townshend's  intense  chagrin,  Rose's  changed 
demeanor  towards  him,  her  evident  approval  and  the 
sudden  friendliness  of  her  manner,  led  him  to  under 
stand  the  truth — or  rather  enough  of  the  truth  and 
enough  of  the  other  thing  to  make  him  completely 
wretched.  He  thought  she  must  have  doubted  his 
courage  and  that  the  fact  that  he  as  proving  himself 
no  coward  explained  her  changed  attitude.  The  thought 
stung  him  to  the  quick.  He  realized  what  many  another 
brave  man  has  realized — that  courage  cannot  be  boast 
ed  of.  He  could  not  go  to  her  and  say,  "  I  have  faced 
death  in  many  fashions.  I  have  known  what  it  was 
to  defend  myself  against  Indians  who  slapped  in  my 
face  long-haired  scalps,  still  wet  with  the  blood  of  mur 
dered  women.  I  have  risked  my  life  more  than  once 
in  defence  of  a  friend,  yet  you  have  held  yourself  away 
from  me  and  denied  me  your  faith  because  you  doubted 
my  physical  courage." 

In  his  overwhelming  mortification  he  quite  overlooked 
the  fact  that  she  knew  of  his  duel,  fought  to  avenge  her. 
He  lost  himself  in  the  same  gulf  of  despair  which  has 
temporarily  received  at  one  time  or  another  all  the  lovers 
in  the  world  who  are  worthy  of  the  name. 

Rose,  on  her  side,  was  deeply  wounded  by  his  neglect, 

382 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

so  that  when  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  landed  her  passengers 
in  Hoboken  the  misunderstanding  between  these  two 
was  progressing,  nicely. 

Oscar  Gregory,  who  held  a  captaincy  in  the  First 
Illinois  Volunteers,  then  encamped  at  Springfield,  had, 
with  the  utmost  difficulty,  got  forty-eight  hours'  leave  ; 
but  as  this  was  not  sufficient  time  to  reach  New  York 
and  return,  he  telegraphed  his  wife  that  he  would  meet 
her  in  Pittsburg  ;  and  Marion,  with  a  face  full  of  a  su 
preme  happiness,  left  New  York  by  the  first  train,  with 
out  even  going  to  an  hotel. 

New  York  was  gay  with  bunting.  The  Americans 
saw  more  flags  floating  from  windows  in  Jersey  City 
alone  than  they  ever  had  seen  in  all  their  lives  before. 

As  Mr.  Hollenden  had  leased  his  house  before  leav 
ing  America,  no  home  was  open  to  receive  Rose  and 
Shirley. 

"  But  I'm  so  glad  to  get  back  to  God's  country  that 
even  the  Waldorf  seems  like  home  to  me,"  said  Rose. 

The  newspapers  had  taken  care  to  herald  their  arrival, 
so  that  their  rooms  were  filled  with  flowers — none  from 
Townshend. 

Rose  took  the  most  of  hers  and  put  them  in  Shirley's 
room.  She  sent  two  boxes  to  Lida's  sister,  Mrs.  Stock 
ton,  who  had  sent  word  by  her  maid  that  she  was  too  ill 
to  meet  her  sister.  Lida  grinned  a  little  at  Rose's  face 
when  she  proposed  this,  then  turned  her  back  for  fear 
that  Rose  would  catch  her  at  it. 

"  Rose,"  said  Shirley,  coming  in  with  his  arms  full  of 
newspapers,  "  I've  got  bad  news  for  you  and  Lida.  I 
suspected  it  from  the  papers  the  pilot  brought  aboard, 
but  these  others  confirm  it.  There  are  three  thousand 
more  applications  for  women  to  go  as  nurses  than  are 
needed  or  can  possibly  be  used." 

Rose  and  Lida  stared  at  him  in  silence.  The  news 
was  incredible — heart-breaking. 

383 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Won't  they  let  us  go  if  we  go  at  our  own  expense  ?" 
asked  Rose. 

"  No.  More  nurses  than  they  need  would  only  be  in 
the  way." 

"  More  than  they  need !"  cried  Rose,  derisively.  "  When 
did  an  army  ever  have  more  nurses  than  it  needed  ? 
I  won't  give  up  !  I  will  go  !  I'll  pull  wires  !  I'll  use 
influence  !  I'll  go  to  Washington  and  sit  on  the  steps 
of  the  War  Department  until  they  give  in  !  And  I'll 
never  let  up  until  the  war  is  over,  and  I  see  the  returning 
troops  with  my  own  eyes  !" 

"  With  all  your  regular-army  relatives  and  friends, 
Rose,  I  should  think  you  would  get  anything  you  want 
in  Washington,"  said  Lida. 

"  That  shows  that  you  never  belonged  to  the  regu 
lars  1"  cried  Rose.  "  The  army  officers  have  less  in 
fluence  with  the  War  Department  than  a  policeman. 
They  never  ask  favors  1  If  they  did,  they  wouldn't  get 
them  1" 

"  Why,  who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  ?"  cried  Lida, 
indignantly.  "  Why  ?" 

"  Because  everything  is  politics — except  the  army. 
The  volunteers  will  get  all  the  glory  and  all  the  news 
paper  notices  and  all  the  fat  plums.  The  regulars  are 
hired  to  be  killed,  and  their  bravery  is  only  their  duty  ! 
You  don't  often  get  any  prizes  for  doing  your  duty  !" 
said  Rose,  with  the  bitterness  of  the  political  injustice 
done  the  regulars  in  times  past  still  rankling  in  her 
heart. 

"  Then  why  not  make  use  of  politics  ?"  cried  Lida, 
stoutly.  "  Let's  go  down  to  Washington.  I  know 
Senator  Callender's  private  secretary,  Jack  Carusi. 
Let's  telephone  him,  and  ask  if  it  would  do  any  good  to 
go  down.  If  not,  he  could  tell  us  what  to  do." 

"  Lida !"  cried  Rose,  lifting  her  off  her  feet  in  a  smoth 
ering  hug.  "  You  can  have  Shirley  !  You  are  the 

384 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

cleverest  thing  that  ever  happened  !  Go  down  this 
minute  and  telephone  1" 

"  Well,  by  Jove  !"  cried  Shirley.  "  If  you  two  girls 
don't  beat  the —  I  say,  Rose,  I'll  bet  you  a  Krag-Jorgen- 
sen  against  a  Mauser  that  you  and  Lida  get  to  the  front 
whether  Townshend  and  I  do  or  not !" 

"  Done  !"  said  Rose.     "  And  I'll  pay  up,  too  !" 

"  You  bet  you  will  1  A  fellow  doesn't  have  to  let  you 
off  from  paying  your  bets  !" 

"  He  says — "  panted  Lida,  bursting  into  the  room  half 
an  hour  later,  "  to  come  by  all  means.  He  asked  me  if 
we  had  any  '  infloo-ence/  and  I  said,  '  Loads  !'  (I 
thought  we  could  scratch  up  some  after  we  got  there.) 
He  says  Washington  is  jam-full  of  people  who  want 
something,  and  two  more  won't  make  any  difference. 
He  promised  to  speak  to  Senator  Callender  about  it,  and 
said  he'd  give  us  the  time  of  our  lives  if  we  came.  I 
didn't  have  my  purse  with  me,  so  I  had  it  put  on  your 
bill — it  cost  two  dollars  to  talk  five  minutes  !" 

"  It's  two  o'clock,"  said  Rose,  "  and  the  '  Congression 
al  Limited  '  leaves  at  three.  We'll  be  on  that  train." 

"  Oh,  I  say  !"  laughed  Shirley.  "  Don't  you  want 
some  luncheon  ?" 

"  We'll  get  it  on  the  train  !" 

"  Two  reporters  to  see  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  her 
maid,  coming  to  the  door. 

"  I  can't  see  them,  Marie  ;  I'm  too  busy.  You  see 
them,  Shirley.  Tell  them  that  I  am  very  glad  to  be  at 
home,  and  that  I  like  America  much  better  than  France, 
and  that  we  had  a  delightful  voyage,  and  that  I  heartily 
approve  of  the  war.  If  they  want  to  know  anything  else 
say — yes,  you  think  I  do.  Tell  them  '  yes  '  to  every 
thing  !  Marie,  you  needn't  unpack  our  bags,  and  when 
the  trunks  come  you  bring  all  my  clothes  and  Miss 
Schermerhorn's  and  follow  us  to  Washington.  Mr. 
Shirley  will  give  you  any  further  orders.  Hurry  1  We 
28  385 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

leave  the  hotel  in  fifteen  minutes.  Let  me  have  all  your 
American  money,  Shirley,  and  you  get  some  more.  You 
must  get  this  French  money  changed." 

"  Rose,  I  want  you  to  write  to  me  often  from  Cuba," 
said  Shirley,  "  for  we  soldiers  will  be  awfully  lonesome 
up  here  while  you  girls  are  at  the  front  !" 

"  Lida,"  cried  Rose,  suddenly,  "  what  will  your  sis 
ter  say  ?  You  ought  to  go  to  see  her.  Perhaps  we'd 
better  wait  until  the  next  train." 

"  Jamais  de  la  vie  !"  cried  Lida.  "  I  telephoned  her 
while  I  was  about  it — and  put  that  on  your  bill,  too,  by 
the  way — and  found  that  she  was  only  mad,  not  hurt. 
She  wasn't  too  ill  to  answer  the  telephone,  so  if  she  had 
been  dying  to  see  her  little  milliner  sister,  she  could  have 
come  to  the  pier.  You  know  I  haven't  told  her  I  was 
engaged  to  Shirley  yet.  If  I  had,  she'd  have  met  me 
with  a  military  escort  and  a  brass  band." 

"  Perhaps  she  wouldn't,"  said  Shirley,  suddenly,  "  if 
she  knew  that  we  had  left  poor  father  in  the  power  of 
as  clever  and  wicked  a  woman  as  even  Paris  can  boast. 
If  the  comtesse  marries  father,  she  is  perfectly  capa 
ble  of  persuading  him  to  disinherit  us.  And  as  to 
cutting  off  our  allowance  —  that  would  be  her  first 
move." 

"  Never  mind,  Shirley  dear,"  said  Lida,  twinkling. 
"  We  would  go  into  the  millinery  business — we  three. 
I'd  make  the  hats,  you  could  be  a  floor-walker  or  sell 
them,  and  Rose  could  be  the  model  we'd  try  them  on. 
We'd  ruin  New  York  in  six  weeks  if  people  bought  the 
hats  Rose  tried  on  '  just  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  way 
it  looks,'  as  we  say  in  the  trade  !" 

"  Lida,  you  goose  !"  said  Rose,  blushing.  Then,  turn 
ing  to  Shirley,  she  said :  "  I  think  she  would  go  at  it 
quite  the  other  way  about.  She  wants  to  keep  us 
away  from  father  while  she  wrecks  him.  She'll  per 
suade  him  to  double  our  allowance.  You  see  if  she 

386 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

doesn't.  She  thinks  that  if  he  cuts  us  off  with  a  shil 
ling,  we'd  come  trailing  back  to  Paris." 

"  Well,  but  we  wouldn't,"  said  Shirley.  "  I'd  enlist  and 
support  both  you  girls  and  myself  handsomely  on  thir 
teen  dollars  a  month.  Anything  you  could  save  out  of 
that  you  could  have  to  spend  freely,  without  even  ac 
counting  to  me  for  it !" 

"  The  carriage,  mademoiselle,"  said  Marie,  at  the 
door. 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh  I  Isn't  it  lovely  to  be  at  home  again  !" 
cried  Lida,  as  they  drove  down  Fifth  Avenue.  "  Shirley, 
please  telegraph  Jack  Carusi  to  meet  us  at  the  train. 
He  asked  me  to." 

"  I  can't  get  used  to  it  quite  yet,"  murmured  Rose, 
"  that  we  are  back  in  a  country  where  we  may  accept 
men's  escort  again." 

"  Poor  dear  !"  said  Lida.  "  Never  mind,  you'll  get 
over  it  when  you  see  Jack.  He's  not  like  the  wild  beasts 
we've  had  to  put  up  with  for  the  last  year  Jack  is  the 
result  of  American  girls'  training.  He's  so  tame  he'll 
eat  out  of  your  hand." 

"  I'm  more  afraid  of  his  sister,  Miss  Ella  Carusi.  She 
has  written  a  book,  with  a  heroine  so  impossibly  clever 
that  she  begins  conversation  with  repartee,"  said  Shirley. 

"  Isn't  it  heavenly  not  to  bother  with  checking  trunks  ! 
But  mind  you  send  them  on  to-night,  Shirley,  so  that 
they  will  be  waiting  for  us  in  the  morning,"  said  Rose, 
as  they  hurried  down  the  platform. 

"  Look  at  the  grin  of  that  fat  old  colored  porter,"  said 
Lida,  as  he  beckoned  to  them.  "  He  wants  to  make  us 
think  he  is  holding  the  train  especially  for  us,  which 
means  a  double  fee.  Yes,  yes,  can't  you  see  that  we  are 
coming  ?" 

They  really  had  not  a  moment  to  spare.  The  porter 
snatched  the  bags  from  Marie,  ducked  in  response  to  his 
fee,  Shirley  waved  his  hat,  and  the  "Congressional 

387 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Limited,"  one  of  the  most  perfect  trains  in  the  country, 
pulled  slowly  out  of  the  station,  gathering  speed  and 
momentum,  and  then  rushed  away  southward  towards 
the  capital. 

Jack  Carusi,  one  of  the  smartest  beaux  of  Washington, 
met  them  at  the  station,  and  fell  so  violently  in  love  with 
Rose  the  moment  he  saw  her  that  he  proposed  to  her 
within  the  week,  was  refused,  and  returned  to  his  alle 
giance  to  his  syndicate  of  other  girls  with  quite  a  chas 
tened  air  of  resignation. 

But  during  the  week  that  he  neglected  Senator  Callen- 
der's  correspondence  in  order  to  serve  Rose  Hollenden 
and  Lida  Schermerhorn,  he  was  of  much  use  to  them. 

"  First,"  he  told  them,  "  you  must  see  your  senator." 

"  I'd  rather  see  the  President,"  said  Rose,  abruptly, 
"  and  ask  him." 

Carusi's  hair  rose. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  gasped  the  Washingtonian, 
"  that  you  would  actually  bother  the  President  with  so 
small  a  request  as  this  1" 

"  Bother  anybody  !"  said  Lida,  stoutly,  "  if  I  could  get 
what  I  want  by  it." 

"  '  So  small  a  request/  "  repeated  Rose.  "  Do  you 
know,  Mr.  Carusi,  that  every  nurse  who  goes  to  the  front 
takes  her  life  in  Ler  hands  just  as  much  as  a  soldier  in 
the  trenches  ?  Bullets  are  not  the  only  dangers  of  war. 
I  wish  they  were." 

"  Then  you  really  are  serious  in  your  wish  to  become 
nurses  ?" 

Rose  and  Lida  looked  at  each  other.     Lida  reddened. 

"  Look  here,  Jack  Carusi.  You  have  frittered  your 
life  away  at  pink  teas  until  you  ought  to  wear  skirts  and 
stays  and  be  done  with  it.  I  thought  you  meant  it  when 
you  promised  to  help  ;  but  we  can  do  without  you.  We 
will  go  alone  !" 

Carusi  threw  his  head  back  and  roared. 

388 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  No,  you  won' t  !  I'll  do  everything  I  can.  We'll  go 
to  the  Senate  first  and  send  our  cards  to  Senator  Bur 
lington." 

The  senator  came  out  of  the  Senate  chamber,  rubbing 
his  glasses  nervously  with  a  white  silk  handkerchief. 
His  manner  said,  impatiently,  "  Well,  well,  what  can  I 
do  for  you  ?" 

Carusi  introduced  them  and  stated  their  errand.  The 
senator  said,  "  Hum !  Hum  !"  Then  he  put  on  his 
glasses  and  looked  at  Rose. 

"  You  want  to  go  as  nurses  ?  You  ?  But  you  know 
that  is  not  in  my  department.  You  must  see  the  Secre 
tary  of  War,  or,  better  still,  the  Surgeon-General." 

"  I'd  rather  see  the  President,"  said  Rose,  quietly.  "  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  go  with  us." 

"  Go  with  you  !"  gasped  Senator  Burlington,  swept  off 
his  feet  by  the  delicate  impertinence  of  it  all.  "  When  ?" 

"  Now  !"  said  Rose,  coming  closer  to  him  and  laying 
her  hand  on  the  old  man's  arm. 

"  But — but,"  he  stuttered,  "  they  are  just  about  to  vote 
on  the  annexation  of  Hawaii.  They  may  begin  the  roll- 
call  at  any  moment.  I  can't  leave  now  I" 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  said  Rose.  "  They  will  be  all  of  two 
hours — oh !  I  know  the  Visitors'  Gallery  ! — and  in  less 
than  that  time  we  could  do  it.  Besides,  do  you  think  we 
don't  know  that  you  are  paired  ?  See,  we  have  good 
horses,  and  we  won't  spare  them.  It  is  just  the  right 
time  to  see  the  President.  He  will  receive  us,  I  know." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  muttered  the  senator. 
"  Well,  well,  let  me  just  go  and  have  a  look  about  and  see 
if  1  can  be  spared." 

"  Not  over  that  doorstep  do  you  go  !"  said  Rose,  smil 
ing.  "  You  may  go  to  the  door  and  look  in,  if  you  like, 
but  I  would  never  get  you  again  if  I  let  you  go  now  !" 

Senator  Burlington  looked  at  her  again,  then  burst 
out  laughing  and  led  the  way  out. 

389 


THE   EXPATRIATES 

"  It's  of  no  use  !  I'll  go  with  you  !  I'll  desert  my 
country  in  her  hour  of  need,  and  I'll  show  you  to  the 
President  as  my  excuse  !" 

Lida  tiptoed  after  them  in  silent  fits  of  laughter. 

"  Oh,  my !  Oh,  my ! "  she  whispered  to  Carusi.  "  When 
Rose  gets  kittenish  and  goes  in  for  flirting  with  old 
men,  it's  time  for  me  to  sit  in  a  chimney-corner  and  knit 
gray  socks.  I  never  saw  her  do  such  a  thing  before.  She 
ought  to  marry  a  congressman  from  the  West  and  stump 
the  State,  kissing  the  babies  and  corrupting  the  male 
vote  by  those  eyes  of  hers  !  Oh,  Lor'  !  Look  at  the 
senator  !" 

"  Now,  Senator  Burlington,"  said  Rose,  as  she  raised 
her  pink  parasol,  which  shed  a  soft  rose-colored  light 
over  her  fresh,  clearctinted  skin,  "  we  must  make  these 
precious  two  hours  of  yours  count.  You  have  deserted 
your  country  in  a  shameless  manner,  and  if  you  fail  with 
your  errand  your  conscience  will  cry,  '  Treason  !'  If 
you  succeed,  it  will  cry,  '  Patriot !'  You  must  turn  re 
bellion  into  revolution.  You  must  use  all  your  influ 
ence." 

"  Be  quite  rude  if  necessary  !"  supplemented  Lida, 
cheerfully. 

The  senator  looked  in  a  bewildered  manner  from  one 
to  the  other  of  the  faces  opposite  as  the  carriage  swept 
out  from  under  the  porte-cochere  of  the  Capitol  and 
wound  down  that  serpentine  drive  which  spreads  all  of 
beautiful  Washington  out  before  one  like  a  panorama. 
He  did  not  know  just  how  to  take  them. 

"  You  would  not  have  me  coerce  the  President,  would 
you  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  we,  just  ?  That  is,  if  we  couldn't  get 
what  we  want  any  other  way." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Rose,  pacifically,  as  they  entered  the 
White  House.  "  Just  persuade  the  President  to  receive 
us.  That's  all  I  ask." 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Senator  Burlington  wrote  something  on  his  card,  and 
in  a  few  moments  they  were  ushered  into  the  presence 
of  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  United  States.  The  color 
fluttered  up  into  the  girls'  faces,  and  their  hearts  beat 
with  excitement. 

The  President  rose  to  receive  them,  and  Senator  Bur 
lington  stated  their  errand  with  refreshing  brevity. 

The  President  smiled.  His  face  was  pale  from  the 
great  strain  he  was  undergoing,  and  his  deep-set  eyes 
looked  anxious  and  tired. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  Rose,  "  we  have  been  living  in 
Paris  for  a  year,  and  we  have  travelled  five  thousand 
miles  in  order  to  get  home  in  time  to  enlist  as  nurses,  but 
before  we  could  get  here  all  the  places  were  taken.  It 
isn't  fair  1  I  am  the  daughter  of  five  generations  of  sol 
diers  on  my  mother's  side,  and  I  want  to  go  to  the  front 
just  as  much  as  my  brother  does.  He  telegraphed  me 
this  morning  that  he  has  been  promised  a  second  lieu 
tenancy  in  the  Rough  Riders." 

"  Mr.  Townshend's  ?"  said  the  President,  raising  his 
eyes  suddenly  and  darting  one  of  his  keen  glances  at 
the  girl. 

"  Yes — Mr.  Townshend's.  And  if  he  goes,  why  can't 
we  ?  Please  don't  say  that  you  have  all  the  nurses  you 
need  !  What's  the  use  of  being  President  if  you  can't 
do  as  you  like  ?" 

The  President  drew  a  long  sigh  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  are  competent  ?"  he  asked,  sur 
veying  the  Paris-clad  girls  dubiously,  in  spite  of  their 
eager  faces.  One  of  the  penalties  of  great  beauty  is 
that  it  is  always  suspected  of  being  a  fool. 

"  I  understand  nursing,  although  I  am  not — "  began 
Rose,  but  Lida  cut  in  with — 

"  Tell  him  about  the  studio,  Rose.  Mr.  President, 
have  we  your  permission  to  tell  you  how  we  have  been 
training  our  little  squad  of  students  in  her  brother's 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

atelier  in  the  Latin  quarter  ever  since  the  Maine  was 
blown  up  ?" 

"  You  have  been  doing  what  ?"  said  the  President. 

"  My  father  set  my  poor  brother  Shirley  to  studying 
art,  because  he  wished  to  keep  him  out  of  the  army," 
explained  Rose.  "  But  after  the  destruction  of  the 
Maine  we  felt  sure  that  war  would  be  declared,  so  he 
recruited  a  company  from  among  the  students,  and 
equipped  them  with  Mausers  (because,  of  course,  you 
will  discard  the  old  Springfields  and  use  smokeless  pow 
der),  and  Miss  Schermerhorn  and  I  taught  them  how  to 
cook  and  sew,  and  the  '  first  aid  to  the  wounded.'  Twen 
ty  of  them  came  over  on  the  same  ship  with  us  to  enlist." 

The  President  looked  keenly  at  Rose. 

"  Aie  you  the  young  girl  who  compelled  the  foreign 
diplomats  to  salute  the  flag  at  the  ambassador's  recep 
tion  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  she  is  !"  cried  Lida,  eagerly.  "  They  had  al 
ready  commenced  to  hiss  a  little.  They  felt  like  hissing, 
but  Rose  made  them  salute  the  flag  of  the  Maine  I  No 
body  else  would  have  dared  !" 

*  Lida  I"  said  Rose,  blushing  painfully. 

"  I  wanted  him  to  know  !"  maintained  Lida,  stoutly. 

"  Believe  me,  I  am  very  glad  to  know,"  said  the  Presi 
dent,  earnestly.  "  It  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  attempt, 
because  the  reception  was  official." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Rose,  simply.  "  1 
never  thought  of  anything  except  that  Spain  had  insult 
ed  the  flag,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  some  of  those  repre 
sentatives  of  other  nations  looked  as  if  they  were  glad 
of  it,  although  they  wouldn't  have  dared  to  say  so.  There 
was  only  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was  to  make  them 
salute,  with  all  outward  respect,  the  flag  that  one  coun 
try  had  dishonored.  It  seemed  a  simple  thing.  I  didn't 
realize  until  afterwards  that  I  oughtn't  to  have  done  it." 

"  But  you  ought  to  have  done  it,  Miss  Hollenden,"  said 

392 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Senator  Burlington.  "  The  President,  in  his  official 
position,  perhaps  does  not  feel  at  liberty  to  express  him 
self  as  freely  upon  the  subject  as  he  would  enjoy  doing, 
but  1  know  1  am  'expressing  his  sentiments  when  1  say 
that  I  am  glad  you  dared  to  do  a  thing  like  that." 

"  So  brave  that  even  yet  you  do  not  know  how  brave  it 
was/'  said  the  President,  kindly.  "  You  must  let  me 
thank  you  personally,  if  it  is  not  too  late." 

Deeply  embarrassed,  Rose  scarcely  knew  where  to 
look  as  the  President  offered  her  his  hand. 

"  Then  may  we  go  ?"  asked  Lida,  eagerly,  anxious  not 
to  lose  this  opportunity  of  pressing  her  advantage  home. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  know  what  you  are  asking  ?  Are 
you  both  strong  enough  ?  And  are  you  trained  nurses  ?" 

"  We  do  know  what  we  are  asking,  and  we  are  perfectly 
strong  and  well.  We  are  not  trained  nurses  in  the  sense 
that  we  have  graduated  from  any  training-school,  but 
we  have  studied  harder  than  you  would  believe  we  could, 
and  we  are  so  eager  to  go  that  I  am  sure  we  shall  prove 
competent.  At  any  rate,  we  are  going,"  said  Rose. 

"  You  are  going,  are  you  ?"  said  the  President,  smiling. 

"  Yes,"  said  Rose,  lifting  her  honest  gray  eyes  to  his 
fearlessly.  "  We  are  going  officially,  if  you  will  appoint 
us.  If  not,  we  shall  fit  up  a  yacht  and  go  as  private 
nurses." 

The  President  and  Senator  Burlington  glanced  at 
each  other  involuntarily. 

"  You  shall  go,"  said  the  President,  "  if  I  have  any  in 
fluence  with  the  War  Department.  Call  upon  the  Sur 
geon-General  and  tell  him  from  me — " 

"  Won't  you  just  write  it  ?"  suggested  Rose,  sweetly, 
drawing  the  paper  up  before  him. 

The  President  darted  another  keen  glance  at  her  from 
under  his  thick  brows.  Then  he  smiled  and  scratched 
a  few  words  on  his  official  paper,  signed  and  handed  it  to 
Rose. 

393 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Oh,  Mr.  President,"  cried  the  girl,  taking  his  hand 
in  both  hers,  "  you  have  made  me  so  happy  !" 

"  It  is  a  blessed  country,  Miss  Hollenden,  where  the 
women  are  as  patriotic  as  the  men,"  said  the  President, 
bowing  to  his  little  group  of  visitors.  "  I  owe  more 
thanks  to  you  for  the  services  you  have  already  rendered 
than  you  can  possibly  owe  to  me." 

Lida  gave  a  little  frightened  laugh  as  they  bowed 
themselves  out. 

"  How  impressive  he  was  !"  she  whispered.  "  1  was 
more  thrilled  by  the  look  in  his  eyes  than  when  I  was 
presented  to  the  German  Emperor." 

"  It  is  because  he  feels  the  terrible  responsibility  of 
this  war,"  said  Rose,  sadly.  Then  she  added,  more 
briskly  : 

"  Now,  dear  Senator  Burlington,  we  are  going  to  get 
you  back  to  the  Capitol  in  time  to  witness  the  vote  on 
Hawaii.  I  intended  it  all  the  time  as  a  reward  of  merit." 
She  whispered  a  few  magic  words  to  the  negro  driver 
and  looked  critically  at  the  horses. 

The  senator  laughed. 

"  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  you  do,"  he  said.  "  After 
seeing  you  get  the  President's  signature  in  less  time 
than  the  Senate  and  Congress  rolled  together  could  do  it, 
I  shall  not  be  surprised  at  anything." 

"  Wasn't  he  kind  ?"  said  Rose. 

"  Rose,  he'll  kill  those  horses  !"  cried  Lida.  "  He's 
beating  them  to  a  jelly.  Where's  all  your  humanity 
towards  dumb  brutes  ?" 

"  These  horses  are  perfectly  fresh,  and  it  won't  hurt 
them  to  run  a  bit." 

"  I  feel  like  the  chariot  race  in  Ben-Hurl"  cried  Lida,  as 
the  carriage  whizzed  by  other  carriages,  the  horses  gal 
loping  and  people  staring  after  it  in  open-mouthed 
amazement.  Senator  Burlington  and  Carusi  began  to 
look  nervous. 

394 


THE     EXPATRIATES 

"  It's  all  right/'  Rose  assured  them.  "  I  know  this 
driver  and  he  knows  his  horses." 

The  carriage  clattered  up  the  asphalt  road  like  a  fire- 
engine,  and  the  driver  reined  them  up  under  the  porte- 
cochere  with  a  flourish. 

"  Come  !"  cried  Rose,  "  I  want  to  see  if  you're  in  time." 

Each  girl  took  the  senator's  arm  and  hurried  the 
white-haired  old  man  up  the  steps,  through  the  labyrinth 
of  corridors,  and  back  to  the  door  of  the  Senate  Chamber. 

"After  we  leave  you  safely,  we're  going  to  the  War  De 
partment,"  said  Rose. 

"Oh,  you'll  get  your  appointment,"  panted  the  senator. 

They  thanked  him  and  said  good-bye  in  hurried 
whispers  at  the  door  of  the  Senate  Chamber.  The  roll 
was  in  the  act  of  being  called  and  the  Visitors'  Gallery 
was  packed. 

"  Hurry  and  go  in,"  whispered  Rose.  "  They're  just 
beginning  the  B's." 

The  senator  tottered  to  his  seat  and  dropped  into  it 
with  a  sigh  of  exhaustion. 

"  Where  in  the  devil  have  you  been  ?"  asked  one  of  the 
ayes.  "  Didn't  you  realize  that  we  were  going  to  vote 
at  last  ?" 

Senator  Burlington  nodded. 

"  Then  why  did  you  stay  out  so  long  ?  I've  had 
pages  dragging  the  river  for  your  body." 

"  I've  been  to  the  White  House,"  murmured  the  senator. 
"  1  went  in  a  balloon  and  came  back  on  a  fire-engine. 
I've  been  bewitched  by  two  sirens  and  seen  a  miracle  per 
formed,  and  if  you've  got  any  ice  1  wish  you'd  put  it  on 
my  head." 

"  But  you  won't  see  such  a  sight  as  the  vote  on  Ha 
waii — "  began  his  friend. 

"  Damn  Hawaii  I"  said  the  senator.  "  1  wish  you'd 
seen  those  girls." 

395 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

IT  was  the  morning  of  July  I  st.  The  sun  was  pouring 
down  its  blazing  heat  upon  the  hospital  tents  where 
three  nurses,  Rose,  Lida,  and  little  Lena  Marot,  who 
had  contrived  to  be  sent  where  Marion  Gregory  wished 
to  come  and  could  not,  stood  clutching  one  another's 
hands  and  listening  to  the  booming  of  the  cannon 
which  told  that  the  battle  had  begun. 

Of  the  three  only  Lena  had  had  experience.  She  had 
been  transferred  from  the  hospital  at  Siboney,  or,  rather, 
she  had  transferred  herself.  Whether  she  ever  had 
permission  or  not,  no  one  ever  knew,  and  no  one  ever  will 
know.  But  there  she  was,  preparing  for  the  reception 
of  the  wounded,  which  even  now  were  being  "  sent  to 
the  rear." 

To  Rose  and  Lida  it  seemed  as  if  every  shot  would 
end  their  lives  then  and  there,  for  Townshend  and  Shir 
ley  were  both  up  there  somewhere,  at  the  front,  proba 
bly,  if  they  could  get  there,  in  that  awful  place  whose 
name  strikes  such  terror  to  women's  hearts,  "  on  the 
firing-line." 

The  surgeons  and  Red  Cross  assistants  of  this  tem 
porary  field  hospital  had  all  started  up  towards  the 
battlefield  to  meet  the  ambulance  and  stretchers  half 
way.  The  three  nurses  moved  about  restlessly,  arrang 
ing  their  scanty  stores  of  medicines  and  implements, 
and  raging  at  the  Olivette,  the  hospital-ship,  rocking 
easily  in  the  harbor  off  Siboney,  with  everything  on  board 
that  the  land  hospitals  needed  and  couldn't  get.  The 

396 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Red  Cross  ship  State  of  Texas  was  anchored  in  Santi 
ago  Harbor,  and  would  supply  all  immediate  needs, 
but  the  main  hospital  supplies  might  as  well  have  been 
in  Manila  Bay  as  where  they  were — red-taped  and 
balked  of  their  mission  by  wretched  mismanagement. 

Neither  Rose  nor  Lida  were  supposed  to  be  at  the  field 
hospital — women  were  not  allowed  there — and  the  main 
Red  Cross  hospital  was  over  a  mile  away ;  but  Rose  al 
ways  carried  with  her  the  magic  paper  bearing  the  Pres 
ident's  signature,  fortunately  not  addressed  to  any  one, 
but  asking  that  the  bearer  be  given,  in  the  name  of  the 
President,  anything  she  wished.  Its  effect  once  or 
twice  had  been  electrical.  She  got  supplies  which  no 
one  else  could  get ;  she  foraged  like  a  pirate  for  others, 
yet  now,  in  this,  her  first  real  experience,  she  had  less 
to  work  with  than  any  one.  She  inspected  her  poor 
little  supplies  with  tears  of  impotent  anguish  in  her  eyes. 
The  ice  was  packed  more  carefully  even  than  the  med 
icines,  and  moved  often,  to  be  kept  out  of  the  sun's  fierce 
rays.  The  hospitals  were  two  tents,  hastily  set  up  and 
equipped,  and  affording  only  an  apology  for  shelter. 

The  suspense  was  agonizing.  Suddenly  Rose,  who 
was  using  the  field-glasses,  gave  a  cry. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  can  you  see  ?"  cried  Lida,  snatch 
ing  the  glasses.  "  Is  it  Shirley  ?" 

"  No.     Minnehaha,  and — riderless  !"  gasped  Rose. 

"  Pooh  !"  cried  Lida.  "  Mr.  Townshend  has  been 
obliged  to  turn  her  loose,  and  the  pretty  thing  has  come 
home — that's  all.  He  told  me  he  knew  he  should  have 
to!" 

"  Did  he  ?  Did  he  really,  Lida  ?  You  are  not  say 
ing  this  simply  to  encourage  me  ?" 

"  On  my  honor  he  did  !  And  Shirley  never  even  tried 
to  take  Paris  with  him.  I'm  glad  they  dismounted  the 
regiment.  I  know  that  brute  of  yours  would  have  killed 
Shirley." 

397 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Minnehaha  came  along  at  an  easy  canter,  and  Rose 
ran  out  to  meet  her. 

"  No  sugar  for  you  now,  my  girl,"  she  said,  as  the 
mare  snuffed  expectantly  at  her  hand.  "  Tell  me,"  she 
whispered,  putting  her  arms  around  the  mare's  neck — 
"  tell  me,  is  it  all  right  with  your  master  ?  You  wouldn't 
run  away  and  leave  him  to  die,  would  you  ?  I  am 
sure  you  wouldn't.  Come  over  here  and  stand  in 
the  shade  and  let  me  take  your  saddle  off.  Oh,  Lida  ! 
did  you  hear  that  bullet  ?  It  went  right  by  my 
head." 

"  There  must  be  sharpshooters  in  the  trees,"  said 
Lida,  anxiously.  "  Come  back  into  the  tent.  Oh,  look  ! 
There  come  a  row  of  stretchers  !" 

The  first  wounded  man  to  be  brought  into  the  field 
hospital  at  San  Juan  was  Pat  Duffy,  wounded  horribly 
in  the  leg.  He  smiled  faintly  as  he  saw  Rose  and  Lida 
bending  over  him. 

"  Captain  Rose,  I  got  this  practising  under  your  or 
ders,"  he  whispered.  "  I  stopped  to  give  a  '  first  aid  '  to 
a  chap,  and  a  shrapnel  burst  while  I  was  doing  it  and 
nipped  me.  It  killed  two  men.  Wasn't  I  lucky  ?" 

"  Oh,  Pat !  Dear  boy  1  How  brave  of  you  !  But 
where  is  the  regiment  ?" 

"Right  in  front,"  whispered  Pat,  flushing  with  pride, 
"  and  Townshend's  in  front  of  the  regiment. " 

Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  brow,  and  he  set  his 
teeth  to  keep  down  the  groans  which  his  shattered  leg 
wrung  from  him.  In  a  few  moments  chloroform  had 
mercifully  eased  his  pain,  and  while  under  its  influence 
the  poor  boy's  leg  was  amputated,  leaving  him  so  weak 
from  loss  of  blood  that  Rose  held  her  finger  on  his  pulse 
until  the  awful  arrivals  of  others  and  the  imperative  de 
mands  of  the  surgeons  called  her  to  the  harrowing  task 
she  had  deliberately  set  herself  to  do. 

News  of  the  battle  came  in  with  the  wounded  as  the 

398 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

day  progressed,  until  finally  came  word,  late  in  the  af 
ternoon, 

"  They've  begun  to  charge  the  hill  1" 

To  Lena  and  Lida  Schermerhorn  this  sounded  terrible 
enough,  but  to  Rose  it  sounded  ominous.  She  knew 
that  they  had  practically  no  artillery — a  few  Catlings 
firing  black  powder — and  that  to  charge  without  the 
backing  of  big  guns  was  simple  suicide. 

"  It's  the  Rough  Riders  who  are  charging,  then  ! "  she 
cried  to  the  surgeon  at  whose  right  hand  she  was  work 
ing.  "  The  regulars  would  never  be  ordered  to  do  such 
a  thing." 

"  There'll  be  no  one  prouder  than  you  if  they  succeed," 
he  answered  her  quietly.  "  It  may  not  be  wise,  but  it  is 
brave.  And  no  one  there  is  braver  than  your  brother." 

Rose  flushed  hotly.  She  had  not  been  thinking  of 
Shirley  when  she  spoke  so  impetuously. 

"  All  the  men  are  brave,"  she  said.  And  then  she 
noticed  that  there  was  a  very  tall  officer,  with  blood 
stains  on  his  khaki  uniform,  whom  the  men  were  carry 
ing  very  carefully,  and  she  saw  that  they  were  looking 
at  her.  Her  sleeves  were  rolled  up  and  her  bare  arms 
streaked  with  blood.  Her  nerves,  perhaps,  were  all  un 
strung  from  her  terrible  day's  work,  but,  from  whatever 
reason  it  was,  when  she  staggered  to  her  feet  and  saw 
that  it  was  Shirley  they  were  carrying  she  lost  her  con 
trol  and  gave  one  terrible  scream. 

"  Oh,  my  brother  !"  she  cried,  flinging  herself  upon  his 
breast. 

Lida  rushed  across  from  the  other  tent,  her  trembling 
knees  almost  giving  way  beneath  her.  She  tore  Rose 
backwards  roughly. 

"  Do  you  want  to  kill  him  ?"  she  demanded,  fiercely. 
"  He  isn't  dead.  His  heart  is  beating." 

She  cut  away  his  uniform  as  she  talked  in  jerks. 

"  It's  only  a  flesh  wound  in  his  shoulder  and  a  broken 

399 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

collar-bone.  And — he's  overcome  by  the  heat.  Get 
some  ice,  quick." 

But  Rose  was  sobbing  bitterly.  Lida  looked  up  at 
her,  her  white  lips  twitching  painfully. 

"  Have  you  lost  your  nerve  ?"  she  demanded,  huskily. 
"  Surely  if  1  can  bear  it,  you  can.  He's  more  to  me  than 
he  is  to  you  !" 

"  No  such  thing,"  said  Rose,  wiping  away  the  tears. 
"  He  is  my  brother,  and  he  is  only  your — " 

"  To  be  sure.  He's  only  going  to  be  my  husband. 
Merely  a  relation  by  marriage.  But  don't  let's  let  him 
die  while  we  fight  about  him.  Will  you  have  the  good 
ness  to  get  some  ice  and  call  the  surgeon  ?" 

"  Good  !  Nothing  at  all  serious,"  said  Dr.  Corey, 
cheerfully,  when  he  had  examined  h  m.  "  But  he  has 
come  closer  to  having  a  sunstroke  than  1  should  care  to. 
One  of  you  stay  with  him  until  1  need  you  both,  and  the 
other  come  with  me." 

The  hospital  tents  were  full  to  running  over  long  be 
fore  night.  Wounded  men  lay  outside  on  stretchers  and 
cots  when  there  were  any,  or  on  blankets,  but  most  of 
them  crawled  to  the  shade  of  trees  and  lay  there  hours, 
uncomplaining,  unmurmuring,  waiting  patiently  until 
their  turn  came.  A  sad,  halting  procession  of  those 
wounded  but  able  to  walk  or  crawl  crept  on  from  the 
temporary  hospital  to  the  Red  Cross,  over  a  mile  of 
wretched,  muddy,  uneven  ground,  the  stronger  helping 
the  weaker  and  often  lending  a  hand  with  a  stretcher 
bearing  a  case  too  desperate  to  be  operated  on  in  the 
field,  when  every  step  of  the  brave  bearers  was  an  agony 
unspeakable.  Who  shall  ever  tell  of  the  nobility  of  these 
wounded  ?  Of  their  patience  ?  Their  courage  ?  Their 
fortitude?  To  those  nurses  in  the  rear  it  seemed  that 
to  stand  up  and  be  shot  at,  with  the  excitement  of  shout 
ing  and  shooting  back,  was  a  distinct  joy  compared  to 
the  silent  agony  which  followed  being  "  sent  to  the  rear," 

400 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

where  the  fever  and  the  thirst  and  the  agony  which 
racked  them  the  long  night  through  were  so  bitterly 
hard  to  bear. 

All  night  the  surgeons  and  nurses  worked  without  a 
moment's  rest.  The  nurses'  clean  cotton  gowns  of  the 
morning  were  splashed  and  dyed  with  human  blood, 
and  clung  limply  to  their  figures.  The  insects  attracted 
by  the  lights  as  the  grim  work  went  ceaselessly  on  mad 
dened  the  sufferers  and  increased  the  delirium  of  the 
fever-stricken.  It  was  Rose  who  finally  pressed  the 
least  wounded  into  the  service  of  keeping  their  comrades 
unmolested  by  waving  branches  of  palms.  It  was  a 
touching  sight,  but  so  eager  were  they  to  help  that  she 
had  to  warn  them  to  keep  down  their  exertions  or  they 
would  open  their  own  wounds. 

In  the  sweet,  cool  dawn  of  another  tropical  day  she 
slipped  out  of  the  stifling  tents  and  made  her  way  through 
the  lines  of  wounded  lying  on  the  ground.  Most  of  them 
slept.  Occasionally  a  moan  disturbed  their  slumber. 
Sometimes  one  spoke  to  her.  Finally  one  tall  trooper,  a 
famous  Arizona  broncho-buster,  caught  at  her  skirt  as 
she  was  passing,  and  she  stooped  over  him. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Can  1  do  anything  for  you  ?"  she  said, 
wiping  his  brow  and  pushing  his  ha  r  out  of  his  eyes. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  whispered.  "  My  mother  used  to  do 
that.  It  felt  good.  No.  Nothing  for  me.  But  there's 
a  chap  up  there  that  you've  all  skipped.  He's  crawled 
so  far  away  1  can't  hear  him  any  more.  But  I  know  he 
needs  you.  Go  find  him." 

Rose  started  up  instantly.  Then  she  turned  back  and, 
kneeling  down,  she  smoothed  the  wounded  man's  tum 
bled  blanket,  unfastened  his  cartridge-belt,  tucked  it 
under  a  pile  of  leaves  for  a  pillow,  and,  dipping  a  hand 
kerchief  into  her  canteen,  she  laid  it  on  his  forehead. 

"  Oh,  my  God  ! "  groaned  the  poor  fellow  in  a  painful 
whisper.  "  If  you  only  knew  how  good  that  felt !  A 
2  c  401 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

man  is  too  big  a  fool  to  know  how  to  make  himself  com 
fortable.  That  cartridge-belt  has  been  bothering  me  all 
night." 

"  Hush  !  Don't  try  to  talk.  You'll  make  your  fever 
worse.  You  must  be  suffering  horribly." 

The  man  smiled  feebly. 

"  Would  you  mind — "  he  began.  "  Would  you  mind 
putting  your  hand  against  my  lips,  so — so's  1  could  kiss 
it  ?"  he  said,  humbly. 

Rose  granted  his  request  with  a  willingness  which 
she  never  would  have  dreamed  of  withholding. 

The  man's  lips  moved  again. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Rose,  bending  nearer. 

"  1  said,  '  Thank  you,'  "  he  murmured  with  diffi 
culty.  She  looked  more  closely  at  him.  Was  he  falling 
asleep  ?  She  felt  for  his  heart.  It  had  ceased  to  beat. 

With  a  cry  she  started  up.     Oh,  how  awful  it  all  was  ! 

Tears  streamed  down  her  face  as  she  knelt  down 
again  and  took  his  pocketbook  and  papers.  She  found 
his  name  on  an  envelope  which  looked  as  if  it  might 
have  been  written  in  Townshend's  hand,  and  pinned  it 
to  his  sleeve.  Then  she  went  on,  hunting  for  the  one 
who  had  crawled  away  to  die  alone. 

When  she  came  upon  him,  a  slender,  boyish  figure, 
he  was  lying  face  downward,  and  at  first  she  thought 
him  dead.  But  he  started  when  she  laid  her  hand  on 
him,  and  to  her  horror  she  saw  that  it  was  Dunlevy. 
His  left  hand  was  dug  deep  into  the  soft  earth,  where  he 
had  thrust  it  in  his  agony  ;  the  other  arm  was  soaked 
in  blood. 

He  was  too  weak  to  speak.  He  only  looked  at  her 
and  tried  to  smile. 

Rose  hastily  spread  her  canteen  and  nursing  things 
at  her  side,  and,  sitting  down,  she  drew  the  lad  up  into 
her  arms  until  his  head  rested  on  her  breast.  She  held 
him  thus  for  a  moment  before  she  even  tried  to  help  him. 

402 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

It  seemed  as  if  she  knew  that  he  must  be  warmed  back 
to  life  by  a  human  being,  after  lying  all  night  under  the 
trees,  dying  by  inches.  She  smoothed  his  forehead 
and  pressed  her  cheek  against  his  until  he  drew  a  long, 
sobbing  breath. 

"  Not  a  word  !"  she  whispered.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  you  again.  I'll  call  for  help,  and  I'll  stand  by 
you  while  your  arm  is  dressed,  so  that  it  won't  hurt  a  bit. 
I'm  just  going  to  wipe  your  face  with  this  cool  cloth — 
so — and  then  you  are  to  have  a  drink  of  water,  and  then 
I'm  going  to  keep  my  arms  around  you  until  1  hear 
somebody  coming." 

The  boy  smiled  faintly,  but  the  lines  of  pain  smoothed 
themselves  out  under  the  comfort  of  her  voice,  and  when 
Dr.  Corey,  missing  her,  came  to  hunt  her  up,  he  found 
the  lad  asleep. 

"  He'll  have  to  lose  the  arm,  I'm  sure,"  she  murmured. 
"  Can't  you  administer  the  chloroform  here,  so  that  he 
need  not  know  ?  He  is  sure  to  faint  if  we  try  to  move 
him.  Look  at  his  uniform." 

The  sound  of  cannon  came  booming  over  the  hill, 
signalling  the  dawn  of  another  battle.  Rose  shud 
dered. 

"  1  feel  that  this  day  will  bring  something  terrible 
into  my  own  life,"  she  said  to  the  surgeon. 

"  You  have  had  no  sleep.  No  wonder  you  are  ner 
vous.  Oh,  yes,  the  poor  arm  must  go." 

"  And  it  is  his  right  arm — the  hand  he  paints  with. 
He  was  the  genius  of  the  students  in  Paris.  What  a 
loss  !  Oh,  poor  boy  !"  murmured  Rose. 

"  He  will  learn  to  use  the  other  if  the  genius  is  in  his 
soul,"  said  the  surgeon. 

"  Dr.  Corey,"  panted  a  Red  Cross  assistant,  coming 
upon  a  run,  "  come  at  once  if  you  can.  Captain  Town- 
shend  has  just  been  brought  in  badly  wounded.  They 
fired  on  the  stretcher  he  was  in,  and  killed  one  of  the  men, 

403 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

and  wounded  the  captain  a  second  time.     It  may  be  mor 
tal." 

"  1  will  come  instantly/'  said  the  doctor.  "  Help  me 
to  carry  this  lad.  He  is  under  the  influence  of  chloro 
form."' 

Rose  quietly  gathered  up  the  things  they  had  been 
using,  and  followed  them.  By  the  way  her  heart  felt, 
she  knew  that  if  Townshend  died  she  had  got  her  death 
blow.  She  did  not  hurry — she  rather  crept  behind  Dr. 
Corey.  She  wanted  him  to  see  Townshend  first  and  tell 
her  the  worst. 

But  as  they  drew  near  the  tents,  and  she  remembered 
that  they  were  full,  and  she  saw  a  group  around  a 
stretcher,  and  knew  that  there  lay  the  man  she  loved, 
the  life  came  back  to  her. 

She  pushed  her  way  through,  and  knelt  down  beside 
him.  His  face  was  covered,  for  the  wound  was  just 
over  his  eyes. 

She  took  his  hand  before  them  all. 

"  Sterling,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear. 

He  started. 

"  Is  that  you,  Rose  ?" 

*  Yes." 

"  Will  you  stand  by  me  ?" 

"  1  will  never  leave  you.  1  promise  you  that,  and 
you  know  what  it  means." 

For  reply  he  pressed  the  hand  which  held  his  in  such 
a  life-giving  clasp. 

And  then,  when  it  was  all  over,  and  the  surgeon  had 
dressed  the  wound  in  Townshend 's  side,  Dr.  Corey  sent 
them  all  away  except  Rose,  and  to  Rose  and  Town 
shend  he  broke  the  news  that  in  all  probability  he 
would  recover,  but  he  would  be — blind.  There  was 
just  one  chance.  If  constant  applications  of  powdered 
ice  could  be  kept  on  his  eyes,  the  fever  might  be  re 
duced  and  the  inflammation  allayed. 

404 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  For  that  reason,  1  give  him  into  your  charge.  If 
you  let  that  bandage  get  warm  once,  his  eyesight  will  be 
gone,  and  nothing — no  operation — can  bring  it  back. 
Will  you  be  careful  ?  You  need  attend  no  one  else  ex 
cept  Captain  Townshend." 

"  Oh,  but  she  must,"  murmured  Townshend.  "  1  can 
not  have  a  nurse  all  to  myself." 

*  1  promised  poor  Dunlevy/'  said  Rose.  "  Have  them 
put  side  by  side." 

They  carried  Townshend  over  to  a  thicket  of  trees, 
where  only  yesterday  Rose  had  picketed  Minnehaha. 
The  Red  Cross  had  sent  up  six  cots  and  another  tent 
with  fresh  supplies,  so  that  the  day  began  better  than 
yesterday.  Rose's  two  patients  were  isolated  from  the 
rest,  and  when  Dunlevy  fell  asleep  Rose  sat  down  on 
the  ground  and  Townshend  held  out  his  hand  blindly. 

Rose  took  it  in  both  of  hers. 

"  This  ends  all  my  hope — all  my  life,"  he  said.  "  I  can 
only  go  on  loving  you,  never  asking  you  to  love  me." 

"  Before  you  finish,  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  said 
Rose,  "  and  that  is  that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,  and  I  am  so  happy  to  know  that  you  will  get  well, 
that  you  aren't  killed,  as  I  was  afraid  you  would  be,  that 
you  aren't  going  to  die,  that  it  seems  as  if  life  had  noth 
ing  more  to  offer  me.  Don't,  oh,  for  God's  sake,  don't 
tear  off  that  bandage  !" 

"  I  want  to  see  your  face  when  you  say  that.  It  isn't 
enough  to  hear  your  voice." 

"  Do  you  want  to  break  my  heart  ?  I  am  going  to 
save  your  eyesight,  and  here  you  nearly  tore  that 
blessed  ice  bandage  off  that  is  going  to  work  the 
miracle.  I  won't  speak  another  word  if  you  don't 
promise  not  to  frighten  me  again." 

"  I  promise,"  said  the  man,  humbly.  "  But,  oh,  won't 
you  say  it  all  over  again  ?" 

"  I'll  say  it  all  the  rest  of  the  day,  if  you  will  lie  still. 

405 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Eternity  isn't  long  enough  to  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my 
heart.  Just  hear  those  shots.  Doesn't  it  seem  to  you 
that  they  sound  very  near  ?" 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  We  pushed  our  lines  so  far  for 
ward  that  some  of  the  Spanish  sharpshooters  in  the 
trees  couldn't  get  away,  so  they  are  still  concealed  up 
there  and  are  between  us  and  the  regiment.  Tell  Dr. 
Corey  to  send  the  stretchers  well  out  into  the  open  when 
he  can." 

Rose  put  fresh  ice  in  the  bandage  before  she  went. 

"  They  don't  need  me,"  she  panted,  as  she  ran  back. 
"  They  have  sent  up  some  nurses  from  the  Red  Cross. 
But  they  can't  find  Lena.  That  girl  has  been  a  perfect 
wonder  in  the  way  she  has  worked." 

"  There  was  one  of  my  troopers  wounded  yesterday  of 
whom  her  name  always  reminds  me,  because  English 
George,  your  friend  the  coachman,  told  me  of  him  that 
night.  His  name  is  Jim  Bobeen.  I  wonder  if  he  got 
through." 

"  Was  he  one  of  your  men  ?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I  did 
what  I  could  for  him  !  The  poor  fellow  died  this  morn 
ing  just  at  dawn.  I  have  his  papers  in  my  pocket.  I 
thought  the  envelope  I  pinned  to  his  sleeve  looked  like 
your  handwriting." 

"  Dead  !  Poor  fellow  !  A  worse  man  and  a  better 
man  never  lived  !  Were  you  with  him  when  he  died  ?" 

"  Yes,  quite  accidentally.  I  went  the  rounds  just  at 
dawn,  and  he  spoke  to  me  about  Dunlevy,  and  told  me  to 
hunt  for  him.  Then  I  made  him  a  little  more  comfort 
able  and  he  asked  to  kiss  my  hand,  and  while  he  was 
thanking  me  he  died." 

"  Put  that  same  dear  hand  where  I  can  kiss  it,"  said 
Townshend.  "  He  has  had  more  privileges  than  I." 

"  Rose  !  Rose  !"  called  Lida,  running  up.  "  We  are 
all  to  be  moved  immediately.  They  are  firing  on  the 
wounded  and  Red  Cross  from  the  trees,  and  they've 

406 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

killed  Lena  !  She  went  out  to  meet  some  wounded 
and—" 

Lida  flung  her  apron  over  her  head  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  And  Shirley  got  up  and  is  making  them  dress  him, 
and  he's  going  to  try  to  find  them.  I  know  he'll  be 
killed  !"  she  sobbed. 

"  He  oughtn't  to  be  allowed  to  go/'  said  Townshend. 
"  Tell  him  I  order  him  to  stay." 

"And  you're  his  captain,  and  he'll  have  to  obey  !" 
cried  Lida,  darting  away  like  a  deer. 

But  Shirley  had  already  gone,  taking  his  right  arm 
out  of  its  sling  against  everybody's  advice,  but  first 
sending  word  to  the  front  that  the  wounded  were  being 
fired  on  and  asking  the  colonel  to  send  some  sharp 
shooters  to  clear  the  trees  of  Spaniards. 

In  a  few  hours  Shirley  was  back,  leaning  heavily  on 
the  arm  of  one  of  his  own  troopers,  having  again  sepa 
rated  his  broken  collar-bone  and  set  up  a  worse  inflam 
mation  than  yesterday. 

"  But  he  killed  a  Spaniard,"  said  the  trooper,  with  a 
grin  of  pride.  "  Here's  the  cuss's  Mauser  and  cartridge- 
belt.  He  pitched  out  of  the  tree  where  he  had  been  firing 
at  the  wounded  all  day.  I  took  one  kick  at  him  myself 
after  the  lieutenant  killed  him.  It  was  all  there  was 
left  to  do." 

"  He's  the  one  who  killed  poor  little  Lena/'  gasped 
Shirley.  "  I  would  have  died  if  I  hadn't  found  him." 

The  blistering  day  slowly  dragged  its  weary  length 
away.  It  grew  no  cooler  towards  evening.  It  was  only 
a  different  kind  of  heat.  The  sun  in  Cuba  has  a  curious 
way  of  dropping  out  of  sight  so  suddenly  that  it  seems  as 
if  it  fell  over  a  precipice,  and  of  coming  up  in  the  morning 
as  if  shot  out  of  a  cannon. 

The  pain  in  Townshend's  eyes  grew  so  excruciating 
during  the  evening  that  he  became  delirious.  Rose 

407 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

knelt  by  his  side  with  her  finger  on  his  pulse,  renewing 
the  ice  bandages  with  anxious  faithfulness.  Ice  was  so 
scarce  a  commodity  that  every  morsel  of  it  was  saved 
for  bandages,  and  the  luxury  of  iced  water  to  drink  was 
not  to  be  thought  of.  Poor  Dunlevy's  fever  was  so  acute 
that  it  seemed  cruel  not  to  let  him  share  it.  But  after 
his  first  eager  question  :  "  Is  that  ice  you  have  there, 
Captain  Rose  ?"  and  after  Rose  had  explained  to  him 
sorrowfully  that  it  must  all  be  saved  for  bandages,  he 
smiled  cheerfully  and  said  :  "  Oh,  don't  mind  me  !  It's 
only  my  thirst  and  it's  my  captain's  eyes  I"  Neverthe 
less  the  sound  of  cracking  the  ice  made  the  poor,  fever- 
stricken  lad  so  restless,  in  spite  of  his  bravery,  that  when 
she  removed  the  bandages  she  crept  away  into  the 
thicket  and  broke  the  ice  noiselessly  with  a  pin,  so  that 
he  need  not  be  tantalized  by  the  clink  of  it. 

But  it  melted,  oh,  so  fast.  The  night  was  one  of  stifling 
heat.  Dr.  Corey  made  the  rounds  at  midnight,  and 
Rose  asked  for  more. 

"  More  ice  !  Haven't  you  enough  to  last  until  morn 
ing  ?  There  isn't  another  piece  in  the  whole  place  1" 

Rose  clutched  his  arm  and  drew  him  aside. 

"  Don't  let  him  hear  you  !"  she  whispered.  "  I  have 
only  enough  to  last  a  few  hours,  and  more  may  not  come 
until  noon.  Is  there  any  one  we  can  send  to  the  Red 
Cross  for  more  ?" 

"  Not  a  soul,  unless  I  go.  I  would  go,  only — if  any  of 
those  arteries  break  out  that  I  am  watching,  the  men 
might  die  of  hemorrhage  before  the  flow  could  be  stop 
ped." 

"  No,  no  !     You  could  not  be  spared.     How  far  is  it  ?" 

"  Less  than  two  miles,  but  the  roads — " 

"  Listen  to  me.  He  must  have  ice.  You  understand 
that.  If  I  only  bring  back  enough  to  last  through  the 
night,  I  must  get  it." 

"You?" 

408 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Yes,  /.     I'm  going." 

"  But  how  ?  Do  you  know  the  way  ?  There  isn't 
even  a  mule  for  you  to  ride,  and  you  can't  walk  !  No, 
no,  I  will  go." 

"  You  can't  be  spared,"  said  Rose,  earnestly.  "  If  a 
man  died  while  you  were  gone,  I  would  feel  like  a  mur 
derer.  It  is  dangerous  for  me  to  go,  but  I'll  ride  Minne- 
haha.  She's  never  carried  a  lady,  but  she  knows  me 
and  she  is  used  to  following  a  trail.  At  least  let  me  try. 
Let  me." 

Dr.  Corey  hesitated.  A  thousand  dangers  presented 
themselves  to  his  mind  of  which  the  girl  before  him  was 
unmindful  or  ignorant. 

"  I  can  ride  any  sort  of  a  horse  and  on  any  kind  of  a 
saddle,"  Rose  went^on.  "  I  was  brought  up  on  horse 
back  when  my  uncle  was  at  Fort  Assiniboine.  If  you 
will  only  promise  to  keep  his  bandages  supplied 
while  I  am  gone,  I  will  be  back  here  with  ice  before 
dawn." 

"  Well,  there  is  nothing  else  to  do/'  sighed  the  sur 
geon.  "  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  if  anything  hap 
pens  to  you.  But  I  know  if  anybody  on  earth  can  do  it, 
you  can.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  to  see  to  his 
bandages  myself,  so  make  yourself  easy  on  that  score, 
and  feel  free  to  put  your  whole  mind  on  the  task  before 
you." 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Corey,"  whispered  Rose,  seizing  his  hand. 
"  I  will  not  fail  you.  If  only  everybody  could  know 
what  you  have  done  for  all  of  us,  the  list  of  heroes  would 
not  be  complete  without  your  name.  Now  listen. 
When  he  wakens,  tell  him  I've  gone  to  lie  down.  He 
made  me  promise." 

She  slipped  away,  but  came  back  to  whisper  in  the 
surgeon's  ear  : 

"  If  I  am  not  back  by  daylight  you  may  know  that 
something  has  happened  and  that  I  need  help." 

409 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

Then  she  made  her  way  silently  through  the  trees, 
trying  not  to  be  afraid,  to  where  Minnehaha  was  picketed. 
The  mare  was  lying  down,  and  at  Rose's  step  she  sprang 
up  with  a  noise  that  almost  stopped  the  girl's  heart.  She 
leaned  against  a  tree,  with  her  hands  pressed  against 
her  side. 

"  I'll  never  be  able  to  do  it,  if  1  am  as  frightened  as  that 
to  begin  with,"  she  said  to  herself. 

The  mare  sniffed  suspiciously,  and  tugged  at  her 
halter,  but  Rose  spoke  to  her,  and  quieted  her  before 
she  went  near.  She  remembered  Townshend's  warn 
ing. 

"  Good  girl,"  she  murmured,  holding  out  her  hand. 
Minnehaha  reached  out  her  satin  nose,  and  Rose  pat 
ted  her  neck. 

"  Will  you  have  your  saddle  on,  and  will  you  let  me 
ride  you  ?  It's  for  your  master.  Don't  you  under 
stand  ?  Come,  now.  Those  shadows  won't  hurt  you. 
That's  only  moonlight,  and  when  we  get  out  into  the 
open,  that  light  may  keep  you  from  breaking  your  leg 
in  one  of  those  terrible  holes.  Softly.  Don't  make  a 
noise.  I'm  going  to  lead  you  out  into  the  moonlight 
before  1  mount." 

Dr.  Corey  followed,  and  from  the  line  of  tents  he  saw 
her  mount  the  mare,  who  only  turned  her  head  inquisi 
tively  as  she  felt  Rose's  skirts.  He  saw  Rose  settle 
herself  in  the  hard,  uncomfortable  saddle,  and  pat  the 
mare's  neck  and  bend  over  and  shake  the  saddle  to  see 
if  it  were  secure.  He  knew  that  she  was  gaining  Min- 
nehaha's  confidence,  and  that  they  would  understand 
each  other  before  she  started.  The  moon  was  obscured 
now  and  then  by  ragged  clouds  which  flitted  across  the 
sky.  Rose  looked  around,  and,  seeing  the  doctor,  she 
waved  her  hand.  He  waved  back,  "  God-speed."  Then 
she  turned  and  spoke  to  the  mare,  and  Minnehaha  moved 
away  cautiously,  picking  her  way  and  shaking  her 

410 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

handsome  head  as  if  she  liked  and  yet  disliked  the  task 
before  her. 

Once  on  horseback,  all  Rose's  courage  came  back  to 
her.  She  went  slowly,  and  yet,  careful  as  she  was, 
Minnehaha  slipped  and  slid,  and  once  got  her  forefeet 
into  such  a  hole  that  Rose  had  to  dismount  and  lead  her. 
Twice  she  lost  the  trail,  and  retraced  her  steps.  Bon 
fires  were  burning  on  the  surrounding  hills.  The 
sounds  of  occasional  firing  came  to  her  ears.  The  whole 
night  was  uncanny  and  full  of  strange  noises.  Rose 
wondered  what  those  signals  meant.  There  were  ru 
mors  of  a  truce,  but  the  woman's  heart  in  the  girl  had 
lost  some  of  its  eager  patriotism  now  that  her  lover 
and  her  brother  and  two  of  her  boys  lay  wounded  in 
one  hospital.  Back  there  in  that  white  line  of  tents 
her  patriotism  centred,  and  the  fires  on  the  hills 
meant  far  less  to  her  to-day  than  they  would  have 
meant  yesterday,  with  Townshend  and  Shirley  at  the 
front. 

Finally  a  sudden  clearing  revealed  the  blessed  sight 
of  the  permanent  Red  Cross  hospital,  which  was  sup 
plied  from  the  State  of  Texas  in  the  harbor. 

The  advent  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  a  wom 
an  on  horseback,  in  her  blood-stained  nurse's  cos 
tume,  demanding  ice  in  a  breathless  voice,  created  no 
small  disturbance.  Nurses  and  attendants,  who  were 
getting  their  first  sleep  in  sixty  hours,  woke  and  came 
out.  When  they  saw  who  it  was,  they  begged  her  to 
send  the  ice  and  remain  until  daylight,  but  Rose  would 
not  listen. 

"  Please  don't  make  it  any  harder  for  me  to  refuse," 
she  implored.  "  It  is  to  save  the  eyesight  of  Captain 
Townshend,  and  Dr.  Corey  expects  me  back  at  four 
o'clock.  1  couldn't  stay.  Just  don't  delay  me,  that's  all 
1  ask." 

"  But  how  will  you  carry  it  ?" 

411 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  I  don't  know/'  said  Rose,  helplessly.  "  1  hadn't  got 
that  far." 

"  The  only  way  is  to  put  that  little  Cuban  boy,  Tora, 
on  the  lame  mule,  and  make  him  carry  it.  We  can  let 
you  have  fifty  pounds,  if  you'll  take  it  that  way." 

"  Indeed  1  will.  And  can  you  let  me  have  some  more 
antiseptic  gauze  ?" 

"  We  haven't  it  even  for  ourselves.  It  all  gave  out 
last  night." 

In  the  half-hour  that  they  were  rounding  up  the  sleepy 
little  Cuban  and  loading  the  mule,  Rose  found  number 
less  small  things  which  she  could  carry,  and  which  she 
liberally  supplied  herself  with.  The  Red  Cross  were  all 
eager  to  serve  her,  and  they  sent  one  of  their  assistants 
to  put  her  safely  back  upon  her  trail.  The  lame  mule 
lagged  behind  to  such  an  extent  that  Rose  finally  took 
his  halter  herself,  much  to  Minnehaha's  annoyance, 
and  thus  she  made  her  slow  and  painful  way  back  to 
camp. 

There  was  nothing  picturesque  or  beautiful  in  the 
sorry  little  procession.  There  was  no  dash  or  spirit  to 
the  lonely  midnight  ride  the  girl  took.  It  was  a  journey 
full  of  heartbreak  and  pain,  but  she  underwent  the  fatigue 
and  terror  of  it  for  the  sake  of  the  man  she  loved,  without 
a  thought  of  self,  and  only  as  she  reached  home,  and 
saw  the  surgeon  coming  out  to  meet  her  in  the  early 
dawn  with  the  welcome  news  that  she  was  in  time,  did 
she  realize  what  she  had  done. 

As  she  slid  off  the  horse,  her  cramped  limbs  refused 
to  bear  her  up,  and  she  sank  to  the  ground  helplessly. 

Dr.  Corey  knew  better  than  to  pity  her.  He  only 
picked  her  up  and  carried  her,  as  the  Rough  Riders  can 
remember  his  carrying  the  wounded  from  the  field  on 
that  terrible  first  day  of  San  Juan  Hill,  and  took  her 
clear  to  her  post  of  duty  beside  Townshend  and  Dunlevy, 
saying,  cheerfully  : 

412 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  Good  girl  !  You've  done  wonders.  Another  half- 
hour  and  the  ice  would  have  given  out.  Sit  up  here, 
and  look  for  yourself.  There.  That's  the  last.  That 
piece  the  size  of  my  two  fists." 

"  Give  Dunlevy  a  drink  of  ice-water,"  said  Rose,  feebly. 
"  He  wanted  it,  and  1  wouldn't  let  him  have  it.  I'm  go 
ing  to  sleep.  1  just  can't  help  it." 

And  with  that  she  dropped  down  where  she  was  and 
slept  on  the  ground,  with  only  a  blanket  under  her,  the 
utter  dead  sleep  of  exhaustion,  with  Townshend's  hand 
on  her  hair  the  whole  time. 

The  next  day  a  truce  was  declared  and  the  field  hos 
pital  was  moved  down  to  the  permanent  Red  Cross. 

The  last  ceremony  which  was  performed  before  the 
tents  were  struck  was  the  burial  service  over  little  Lena, 
who  had  given  up  her  life  as  gallantly  as  any  of  the  boys 
in  blue  whose  last  messages  she  had  taken  and  whose 
eyes  she  had  closed.  They  buried  her  just  at  sunrise, 
her  body  wrapped  in  the  flag,  a  young  bugler  whose 
wound  she  had  dressed  only  the  day  before  playing 
"  Taps  "  as  the  earth  fell  upon  the  folds  of  the  Stars  and 
Stripes — "  Out  your  lights  !  Out  your  lights  \"  over 
her  grave. 

To  Rose  and  Lida,  and  even  to  the  Red  Cross  assist 
ants  and  to  the  wounded,  Lena's  death  seemed  one  of 
the  saddest  in  all  that  calendar  of  tragedies.  She  had 
clung  to  Rose  with  such  love,  shielding  her  from  hard 
ships  before  Rose  could  prevent  her,  and  following  her 
every  movement  with  such  a  world  of  love  in  her  eyes 
that  it  brought  a  lump  to  the  throat  to  see  her  devotion. 
Only  Townshend  knew  why,  and  to  him  Rose  could 
pour  out  her  grief  at  Lena's  sad  story  and  pitiful  death, 
knowing  that  she  was  betraying  no  confidence. 

Rose  insisted  that  Townshend  should  not  be  told  of 
her  midnight  ride,  for  she  noticed  that  any  mental  dis 
quiet  increased  his  fever. 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

For  five  days  and  five  nights  she  only  left  his  bedside 
to  rest.  Shirley  was  able  to  be  up  and  about,  lending 
aid  to  the  others. 

The  First  Illinois,  with  Oscar  Gregory  in  command  of  a 
company,  had  arrived,  and  it  devolved  upon  Shirley,  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  tragedy  her  name  would  awaken,  to 
tell  him  of  poor  Lena's  death  and  burial  upon  the  field  of 
battle.  When  Rose  questioned  him,  all  Shirley  seemed 
to  have  noticed  was  that  "  he  seemed  awfully  cut  up 
about  it."  But  if  that  were  all,  Rose  breathed  freely  for 
Marion's  sake. 

Poor  little  Lena  !     She  had  nobly  expiated  her  sin. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  Dr.  Corey  promised  to 
test  Townshend's  eyesight  with  safety. 

All  the  hospital  had  seen  long  ago  how  it  was  between 
Rose  and  her  patient,  but  utterly  oblivious  to  appear 
ances,  as  usual,  Rose  braved  criticism,  giving  herself 
up  where  her  heart  led,  with  a  child-like  confidence  that 
no  one  would  notice  or  care  or  comment. 

Just  before  the  bandages  were  to  be  removed  Town- 
shend  called  Rose  to  him. 

She  knelt  down  beside  him  and  took  both  his  hands  in 
hers. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?" 

Townshend  breathed  heavily  a  moment  before  he 
could  steady  his  voice. 

"  I  wanted — I  must  say  '  good-bye '  to  you,  Rose, 
darling,  before  they  take  the  bandage  off,  for  it  may 
be  that  it  will  find  me — blind.  No,  wait  a  moment.  I 
know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  But  I  could  never 
consent  to  that.  Your  beautiful  young  life,  so  full  of 
hope  and  promise,  must  never  be  clouded  by  the  task  of 
having  to  lead  a  blind  companion  at  your  side.  You 
must  face  the  question,  darling,  and  be  brave,  for  blind 
ness  means  twice  to  me  what  it  does  to  you." 

"  Oh,  Sterling  !  You  can't  mean  to  be  so  cruel  !  Do 

414 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

you  think  you  have  any  right  to  be  so  selfish  ?  Won't 
you  consider  me  at  all  ?" 

Tears  forced  themselves  from  under  the  bandage  and 
crept  down  the  man's  cheeks. 

"  I  am  considering  you,  beloved.  I  am  tearing  my 
own  heart  out  by  what  I  am  saying.  But  it  is  because 
I  love  you." 

"  Do  you  love  me  well  enough  to  be  very  unselfish, 
dear  ?"  whispered  Rose.  "  Will  you  let  me  share  your 
anxiety  ?  Will  you  let  me  take  the  risk  with  you  ?" 

*  How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  marry  me  here,  now,  before  they  take  the 
bandage  off.  Let  me  help  you  to  bear  it  if  we  find  that 
you  are — blind.  Then  I  should  be  spared  having  to 
marry  a  blind  man,  for  you  would  have  become  blind 
after  you  married  me  and  it  would  then  be  a  wife's  duty 
to  care  for  you  always  !" 

"  Oh,  beloved  !"  groaned  Townshend,  crushing  her 
hands  against  his  lips.  "Oh,  the  torture  of  not  being 
able  to  see  your  face  when  you  say  these  things.  I  am 
missing  half  my  life  !" 

"  Will  you  ?    Answer  me  !" 

"  No  !  No  !  A  thousand  times  no  !  I  cannot — for 
your  sake  1" 

"  It  is  not  for  my  sake,"  urged  Rose.  "  If  you  really 
love  me,  as  you  say  you  do,  and  as  I  want  to  be  loved, 
you  will  do  it." 

A  long  time  the  man  lay  silent,  battling  with  the 
temptation,  Rose  murmuring  in  his  ear  the  entire  time. 

"  It  will  kill  me  if  you  refuse,"  she  said  at  last.  "  My 
whole  life  is  bound  up  in  yours,  and  you  have  no  right, 
after  pursuing  me  for  over  a  year  and  making  me  love 
you,  to  deny  me  now.  Will  you  ?" 

How  he  came  to  consent  he  never  knew.  He  thought 
afterwards  that  he  could  not  have  been  in  his  right 
mind.  But  it  all  came  so  suddenly,  so  overpoweringly. 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

In  a  few  moments  word  spread  through  the  hospital 
that  Miss  Hollenden  was  to  be  married  to  Captain 
Townshend  before  his  bandages  were  removed,  and 
there  was  a  group  of  the  most  eager,  tearful,  yet  smil 
ing  witnesses  around  his  bed  that  ever  looked  upon  a 
marriage  ceremony. 

Rose  still  knelt.  She  never  released  Townshend' s 
hand  after  he  promised,  for  fear  he  would  weaken  and 
take  it  back.  She  called  Shirley  and  told  him,  and  it 
took  no  urging  to  persuade  the  others. 

The  chaplain  of  the  Rough  Riders  married  them,  and 
then,  before  any  one  moved  or  spoke,  Dr.  Corey  bent  over, 
and,  shielding  Townshend' s  eyes  from  the  light,  he  cut 
the  bandage  away. 

Rose  leaned  over  him,  pale  and  breathless.  Town 
shend  lay  there,  motionless  for  a  moment,  not  daring  to 
make  the  test  which  meant  so  much.  Rose  bent  and 
kissed  him. 

"  Beloved  !"  she  said. 

Then  Townshend  half  fearfully  opened  his  eyes,  and 
the  first  object  their  sight  rested  upon  was  the  face  of  his 
wife. 


CHAPTER  XXX111 

MR.  HOLLENDEN  read  and  crumpled  in  his  hand 
the  cablegram  announcing  Rose's  marriage  to  Town- 
shend.  He  did  not  object  to  Townshend  except  that  he 
feared  that  Rose  would  persuade  him  to  live  in  America 
and  that  the  separation  between  himself  and  his  chil 
dren  was  now  final  and  complete.  This,  in  spite  of  the 
apparent  hardness  of  his  heart,  was  a  real  blow.  Maria 
had  done  her  work  well.  She  had  thoroughly  instilled 
into  her  father's  mind  her  own  ambition  to  cut  loose 
from  America  and  to  become  a  social  power  in  the  French 
capital.  But  his  thorough  knowledge  of  the  character 
of  the  Marquis  d'Auteuil  had  forced  him  to  a  course 
of  severity  which  he  afterwards  intended  to  soften. 
After  Maria  had  learned  her  lesson — and  he  had  had  no 
doubt  but  that  her  husband  would  lose  no  time  in  teach 
ing  it  to  her — he  meant  to  come  to  her  rescue  with  all  the 
means  in  his  power.  With  himself  married  to  the  com- 
tesse  and  his  daughter  married  to  the  marquis,  he  felt 
that  perhaps  even  Rose  might  see  her  way  clear,  by 
proper  persuasion,  to  make  a  titled  marriage.  For  these 
reasons,  nebulous  though  they  had  been  in  America, 
he  had  practically  burned  his  ships  behind  him.  One 
by  one  during  the  last  year  he  had  been  winding  up  his 
affairs  in  the  United  States  and  preparing  to  expatriate 
himself  permanently. 

But  disappointments  came  upon  him  thick  and  fast. 
Maria's  death  struck  at  the  root  of  his  being,  for,  in  spite 
of  her  disagreeable  qualities,  she  undoubtedly  was  the 
20  417 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

tower  of  social  strength  upon  which  he  leaned.  He  had 
both  feared  and  admired  her.  He  admired  her  the  more, 
because  he  alone  realized  whence  she  sprang.  That 
she  should  have  risen,  by  sheer  force  of  will,  and  in  spite 
of  almost  overpowering  obstacles,  to  be  the  Marquise 
d'Auteuil,  he  regarded  with  the  admiration  which  only 
"  an  American  man  of  business  can  completely  compre 
hend.  He  had  felt  the  same  admiration  once  for  a  man 
who  had  outwitted  him  at  his  own  game  and  lost  him  up 
ward  of  three  millions  of  dollars.  He  afterwards  took 
that  man  into  partnership  and  trusted  him  implicitly, 
with  never  a  cause  to  regret  it. 

He  was  thinking  over  these  old  days  as  he  stood  crump 
ling  and  re-reading  Rose's  cablegram.  He  was  through 
with  all  such  things.  He  had  lost  his  children  one  by 
one,  and  yet,  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  at  the  very  moment 
when  he  felt  the  breach  widening  more  and  more  between 
country  and  children,  there  had  come  into  his  hard  and 
barren  life  this  one  great  passion,  sweeping  him  off  his 
feet,  back  to  youth  and  hope  and  all  the  gentleness  and 
grace  of  which  he  had  had  glimpses  in  his  young  man 
hood,  but  which  he  had  choked  and  killed  by  success 
and  the  lust  of  power.  It  was  as  if  he  had  never  loved 
before.  Naj^,  as  he  loved  and  yielded  himself  up  now, 
he  never  had  loved  before.  He  had  married,  dominated, 
and  buried  his  other  two  wives,  marrying  them  because 
he  wanted  them,  and  going  about  it  in  the  same  de 
termined  way  which  actuated  his  proceedings  when  he 
wanted  a  particularly  valuable  block  of  stock,  and  which 
often  deceives  even  clever  women  into  believing  them 
selves  besieged  by  the  victims  of  a  great  passion,  instead 
of  realizing  that  they  are  merely  desirable  property. 

The  peril  of  Rose  and  Shirley,  the  horrors  of  war, 
never  completely  came  home  to  him.  He  was  living  in 
Paradise.  The  emptiness  and  gloom  of  his  grand  house 
never  struck  him,  because  he  always  looked  forward  to 

418 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

the  time  when  the  comtesse  would  vivify  it  with  her 
beauty  and  grace,  and  he  regarded  its  splendors  with 
almost  passionate  gratitude  for  her  sake. 

He  had  often  puzzled  his  brain  trying  to  determine 
why  the  comtesse  would  not  permit  him  to  mention  mar 
riage  to  her.  To  every  effort  she  had  said,  "  Not  now. 
The  time  is  not  yet  ripe.  We  must  wait  until  affairs  ad 
just  themselves."  Since  the  departure  of  his  family  she 
had  been  more  gay  and  had  given  him  more  of  her  time. 
He  had  not  failed  to  notice  that.  She  always  ques 
tioned  him  minutely  about  the  children's  movements. 
Where  were  they  ?  Had  they  got  their  appointments  ? 
Had  they  gone  to  the  front  ?  How  brave  of  them  !  For 
of  course  they  were  in  danger  ?  And  to  all  these  viva 
cious  questions  he  had  answered  her  stupidly  and  liter 
ally,  not  knowing  why  she  asked.  Suddenly  it  dawned 
upon  him  that  she  did  not  like  Rose  and  Shirley — how 
could  she,  when  they  had  treated  her  so  abominably  ? — 
and  perhaps,  now  that  it  was  settled  that  they  were  to 
remain  in  America,  and  she  knew  herself  to  be  safe  from 
their  intrusion,  she  might  permit  herself  to  receive  his 
proposals.  The  thought  illuminated  his  face  until  all 
the  hard,  cold  lines  disappeared.  He  almost  felt  tears 
in  his  eyes.  He  thrust  the  cablegram  in  his  pocket  and 
prepared  to  visit  her. 

The  marquise  and  her  daughter  were  drinking  their 
coffee  in  the  salon  when  Mr.  Hollenden  was  announced. 

"  Go,  dear  maman,  soon  after  he  enters,  for  to-night  1 
shall  settle  matters.  Say  a  prayer  of  gratitude,  for  to 
morrow  my  words  of  greeting  will  be, '  Good-morning,  my 
darling.  He  has  given  me  the  tapestries.'  And  rest 
assured  1  shall  lose  no  time  in  having  them  transferred 
to  Vrianault." 

The  hard,  agate-colored  eyes  of  the  old  Frenchwoman 
softened  under  her  daughter's  words.  She  did  as  the 
comtesse  suggested,  but  she  turned  at  the  door,  and,  look- 

419 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

ing  back,  she  saw  Euge'nie  trail  her  pink-tipped,  mag 
netic  fingers  down  the  old  man's  cheek. 

The  face  of  the  old  marquise  flamed  with  indignation. 

"  Really,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  Euge'nie  is  at  times  as 
disgusting  as  an  American.  1  shall  be  thankful  when 
she  has  at  last  got  the  tapestries  and  we  can  dismiss 
that  odious  old  man  who  tempts  the  devil  in  her." 

The  comtesse  had  gowned  herself  especially  for  her 
scene.  She  wore  a  low-cut  bodice,  held  over  one  shoul 
der  by  a  row  of  pearls,  and  a  satin  skirt  which  fitted 
tightly  every  curve  of  her  beautiful,  lithe  body.  She 
was  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  leaning  back  in  the  cor 
ner  of  a  divan,  with  her  knees  crossed,  as  Mr.  Hollenden 
dragged  up  a  Chippendale  chair  and  sat  beside  her. 

Mr.  Hollenden  was  a  heavy  man,  the  chair  was  deli 
cate,  and  the  comtesse  was  thrifty,  yet  there  was  a  look 
in  the  old  man's  eyes  which  warned  the  Frenchwoman 
to  let  him  smash  the  chair  rather  than  break  the  spell 
which  her  forethought  had  already  begun  to  weave. 

If  the  American  had  not  been  moved  by  a  love  which 
made  of  the  comtesse  a  creature  absolutely  pure  and 
holy,  he  would  have  seen  in  her  attitude  and  in  the  ex 
pression  of  her  half-closed  eyes,  the  mocking  cruelty 
of  her  nature.  He  was  kneeling  at  her  feet  and  wor 
shipping  her  in  thought.  She  was  setting  herself  to 
craze  and  rob  him. 

He  sat  looking  at  her  in  dumb  adoration,  and  she  per 
mitted  his  silent  gaze.  Then,  with  a  slow,  sleepy  move 
ment,  she  reached  up  her  bare  arm  and  deliberately 
turned  out  one,  two,  three  of  the  electric  lights,  leaving 
only  a  rose-shaded  lamp  overhead  to  shed  its  becoming 
light  upon  them  both.  She  was  almost  sorry  to  do  this. 
Really,  the  expression  on  his  face  was  most  amusing. 
It  was  so  thoroughly  typical — not  at  all  like  a  French 
man's.  What  a  pity  to  miss  any  of  it  !  However — 
and  she  sighed. 

420 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me  ?"  she  murmured,  re 
proachfully. 

With  a  groan  he  threw  himself  upon  his  knees  beside 
her  and  covered  her  J: ace  with  kisses.  She  slowly  wrapped 
her  soft  arms  around  him  and  drew  his  head  down  till 
his  cheek  rested  on  her  breast. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  have  been  thinking,"  she  said, 
in  her  soft,  clear  murmur,  which  was  neither  a  whisper 
nor  a  tone. 

"  No.     Tell  me." 

"  I  have  been  wondering  if  you  would  forgive  my 
naughty  brother  for  my  sake,  and  if  you  would  give  me 
those  tapestries.  I  want  them  so  !  I  want  them  so  ! 
I  don't  want  maman  to  have  them,  nor  Raoul.  But  I 
want  them  to  be  mine.  I  want  to  have  a  hold  over  ma 
man.  It  is  not  easy  to  live  with  her  at  times.  Her  pride 
makes  her  cruel  to  me.  And  I  want  her  to  be  obliged  to 
say  to  herself,  '  I  must  respect  my  daughter.  The  tap 
estries  are  Eugenie's.'  Will  you  give  them  to  me  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart—" 

"  Stay,"  murmured  the  comtesse.  "  Before  you  an 
swer  me,  kiss  me  once  more  and  think  well  what  I  am 
asking.  Don't  answer  me  hastily  and  then  regret  it. 
But  kiss  me  while  you  are  considering." 

There  was  a  tear  on  the  woman's  cheek,  wrung  from 
the  innermost  core  of  the  man's  heart  by  the  exquisite- 
ness  of  her  appeal.  The  comtesse  removed  it  by  the 
tip  of  her  little  finger  and  put  her  arms  around  him 
again. 

"  I  give  them  to  you  with  all  my  love  and  all  my  heart. 
You  should  have  had  them  sooner  if  I  had  dreamed 
that  you  wanted  them — that  they  would  have  made 
your  life  easier.  From  now  on  I  shall  consider  them 
yours  every  time  I  look  at  them,  until  the  time  comes 
when  you  will  consent  to  make  a  home  for  me  among 
them." 

421 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

The  comtesse  cleared  her  throat.  Then  she  released 
her  arms  and  turned  her  face  away. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden,  anx 
iously.  He  knew  the  signs  of  her  caprice. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Are  you  vexed  because  I  spoke  to  you  of  marriage 
when  you  have  forbidden  me  ?  But  I  have  a  reason,  an 
excuse,  now.  Rose  is  married  to  Mr.  Townshend.  I 
have  Shirley's  cablegram  in  my  pocket,  so  that  they 
will  never  come  back  to  Paris  to  annoy  you." 

"  Really  ?"  cried  the  comtesse,  taking  his  face  be 
tween  her  hands  and  staring  at  him  eagerly.  Her  tones 
were  breathless. 

"  Really  !  Does  that  give  you  so  much  pleasure,  my 
love  ?  But  they  were  cruel  to  you  !  My  God  !  How 
could  they  be  unkind  to  such  an  angel  as  you  ?" 

"  Angel  !"  thought  the  comtesse,  with  a  grin.  It  was 
a  long  time  since  she  had  been  called  an  angel.  Even 
her  husband  had  never  gone  so  far  as  that.  Quite  the 
contrary,  if  she  remembered  correctly. 

"  Yes,  they  were  very  cruel,"  she  murmured.  "  They 
did  not  understand  me.  No  one  ever  did  understand 
me  except  you  !" 

"  I  know  it,  dear.  It  seems  wonderful  to  me  how  com 
pletely  I  do  understand  you.  Every  one  seems  to  disa 
gree  with  me,  but  I  know  that  I  hold  the  key  to  your  nat 
ure." 

He  was  quite  pleased  with  himself  for  that  speech. 
Love  was  making  him  eloquent.  "  Key  to  your  nature." 
That  was  good — undeniably  good. 

"  You  do,  and  you  alone,  and  for  that  reason  you  will 
not  misunderstand  me  when  I  say  that  the  tapestries 
must  go  back  to  Vrianault,  where  they  belong.  They 
look  out  of  place  in  your  house.  They  are  in  bad  taste. 
Maria  and  I  always  agreed  on  that.  They  belong  in  an 
old  chateau." 

422 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

*  So  they  do,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hollenden.  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that.  I  will  have  them  taken  down  and  sent 
to  Vrianault  to-morrow.  Does  that  please  you  ?" 

"  Please  me  !"  cried  the  Frenchwoman  in  rapture.  "  It 
delights — it  enchants  me  !  If  you  had  thought  and 
planned  a  thousand  years  you  could  not  have  charmed 
me  more  !  How  thoughtful  of  you  !  How  generous ! 
But  you  are  always  generous — the  most  generous  of 
men  !  You  are  always  thinking  of  something  more  to 
give  me,  to  make  my  lonely  life  more  bright  and  happy  !" 

"  Do  I  make  you  happy  ?"  he  asked.  "  Could  you  be 
happy  with  me  ?  Ah,  I  know  you  could.  I  am  not  an 
old  man  even  yet.  If  you  will  marry  me,'  I  will  lay 
everything  at  your  feet.  I  will  make  marriage  settle 
ments  on  you  according  to  the  French  custom.  You 
shall  travel — you  shall  have  a  yacht,  a  palace  to  live 
in — my  whole  life  shall  be  given  up  to  make  you  happy. 
I  love  you  !  I  love  you  !  Tell  me,  will  you  be  my 
wife  ?" 

The  Frenchwoman  flung  back  her  head  in  an  ecstasy. 
She  was  absolutely  intoxicated  with  the  picture  he 
painted.  Her  wildest  dreams  were  about  to  be  realized. 
Here  was  an  end  to  all  the  hard,  money-pressed  past,  and 
a  future  too  rosy  to  dream  of  calmly.  Oh,  what  joy  to 
be  able  to  snap  her  fingers  in  her  friends'  faces  and  dis 
pense  her  largesse  before  their  eyes  like  a  queen.  Her 
breath  came  hot  and  fast  from  between  her  lips.  Mr. 
Hollenden  was  pressing  her  for  an  answer.  She  sat  up 
suddenly.  Her  eyes  gleamed  like  stars  in  the  soft  light. 
Her  beauty  was  undeniable,  and  her  charms  had  pene 
trated  to  the  depths  of  the  man's  being.  He  was  pouring 
out  all  his  deepest,  most  sacred  emotions,  and  reverently 
awaiting  her  answer.  He  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife. 

"  Listen  to  rne  !"  she  cried,  smiling  brilliantly  into  his 
face  and  caressing  his  hair  with  her  trailing  fingers. 
"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart.  I  love  you — do  you 

423 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

understand  ?  Is  that  not  enough  ?  I  will  make  you 
supremely  happy.  I  will  devote  my  life  to  you.  I  will 
never  look  at  any  other  man.  It  can  be  arranged.  I 
will  travel  with  you.  Maman  will  go  with  us — for  ap 
pearance'  sake.  We  will  observe  the  proprieties.  It  is 
bad  taste  to  shock  the  world.  We  will  not  shock  it — 
no  !  We  shall  be  together  always.  You  shall  make  me 
rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,  and  I  shall  give  you 
— myself.  Come.  I  have  planned  it  all  out.  They  will 
criticise  me  for  taking  an  American,  but  you  will  know 
that  it  is  because  I  love  you,  and  love  means  everything — 
excuses  everything  with  a  Frenchwoman.  You  have 
made  me  so  happy !  See,  let  me  turn  up  the  lights  ! 
Look  at  me  !  Look  at  me  ! — and  love  me  !" 

She  turned  on  a  flood  of  electric  light,  and,  pushing 
him  away  from  her,  she  sprang  up. 

The  American  staggered  to  his  feet  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

The  comtesse  walked  rapidly  to  the  end  of  the  salon 
and  back  again.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  her 
triumph.  She  snapped  her  fingers. 

"  Bah  !"  she  cried.  "  That  1  for  Clarice  Flamont  and 
her  little  Rouen  with  only  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year  ! 
Think  what  you  will  permit  me  to  do  with  your  sublime 
fortune!  And  I  with  a  better  figure  than  Clarice,  al 
though  her  eyes  are  finer  than  mine.  Come,  tell  me — 
aren't  you  glad  I  am  handsome  ?  Aren't  you  glad  you 
have  made  me  so  happy  ?" 

The  American  still  covered  his  face  and  still  said 
nothing.  Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  forehead 
and  trickled  down  between  his  fingers. 

"  Oh,  my  friend,  you  are  ill  1"  murmured  the  comtesse. 
"  Take  your  leave  of  me,  and  let  me  ring  for  your  car 
riage.  To-morrow  we  shall  both  be  more  calm.  Think 
of  me  to-night  as  the  proudest  and  happiest  woman  in 
Paris.  Think  also  that  you — you  alone — have  made  me 

424 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

so.     Come  to-morrow  to  breakfast  at   twelve.     Good 
night,  my  best  friend  I" 

She  almost  pushed  him  into  the  arms  of  the  butler. 
She  was  anxious  to  be  alone.  She  had  some  letters  to 
write.  She  wanted  to  spread  her  good  fortune.  Ah, 
God !  how  happy  she  was  !  How  proud  Raoul  would 
be  !  He  had  always  called  her  clever — the  cleverest 
woman  he  knew.  And  now  she  had  proved  it.  To 
succeed  1  What  satisfaction  there  was  in  the  thought  ! 
To  have  one's  months  of  craft  and  plots  and  patient 
waiting  end  in  the  goal  of  all  one's  desires  !  Ah,  it  was 
almost  too  good  to  be  true  !  The  comtesse  kissed  her 
hand  to  her  own  smiling  image  in  the  gilt-framed  mirror. 
Then  she  went  to  her  desk  and  began  to  write. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Two  weeks  later  Mr.  Hollenden  was  pronounced  well 
enough  to  leave  the  house,  and  his  man  supported  him 
down  to  the  carriage.  He  had  ordered  out  Maria's  vic 
toria — poor  Maria  ! — he  never  saw  anything  of  hers 
that  he  did  not  experience  a  pang  of  grief  and  remorse, 
which  seemed  to  grow  more  poignant  as  time  went  on. 
He  wondered  why  it  were  not  true  in  his  case  that  time 
healed.  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  change  was  being 
wrought  in  his  own  heart — that  his  disappointments 
were  softening  him 

He  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  gave  the  order  to  the 
footman.  Where  should  he  go  ?  The  Campania's 
mail  had  arrived  that  morning,  perhaps  some  Ameri 
cans  bound  for  Paris  had  been  on  board.  He  would  go 
to  Munroe's  and  see.  It  was  a  new  sensation  for  him  to 
wish  to  see  Americans.  But  to-day  he  wanted  to  see 
some  one — any  one  fresh  from  home.  He  started  a  lit 
tle  as  that  word  "  home  "  came  into  his  mind.  "  Home  ?" 
Then,  after  all,  home  meant  America,  and  perhaps  this 
pain,  this  hungry  feeling,  this  yearning  for  the  sight  of 
a  familiar  face  was  homesickness. 

He  leaned  heavily  on  the  footman's  arm  as,  with  the 
aid  of  his  stick,  he  climbed  the  stairs  of  No.  7  rue  Scribe — 
those  stairs  which  resound  all  day  to  the  click  of  Ameri 
can  heels,  and  whose  balustrades  are  kept  polished  by 
American  hands.  Everybody  remembers  those  stairs. 

As  he  entered  the  first  door  to  the  right — where  you 
register  and  ask  for  your  mail  and  sit  down,  if  you  can~ 

426 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

not  possibly  wait  to  reach  home,  to  read  your  American 
letters — the  first  person  he  saw  was  John  Wilkinson,  one 
of  the  boys  who  used  to  sit  around  his  red-hot  stove  in 
Michigan  and  spin  yarns,  now  grown  rich  and  prosper 
ous,  and,  as  usual,  come  to  Europe  to  be  polished  off 
by  an  ambitious  family. 

A  month  ago  Mr.  Hollenden  would  have  kept  away 
from  a  man  who  looked  so  hopelessly  Western  as  Wilkin 
son,  looking  at  him  through  the  eyes  of  the  comtesse. 
But  this  morning  he  went  up  to  him  with  an  eagerness 
that  was  almost  painful. 

Wilkinson  pulled  off  his  eye-glasses,  then  put  them  on 
again  half-way  down  his  nose,  threw  back  his  head,  and 
looked  at  him. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Bless  my  soul  !  Bless  my  stars  !  If  it  isn't  Jim 
Hollenden  !  But  that  there  geranium  in  your  button 
hole  threw  me  off.  You  didn't  use  to  wear  a  wreath  of 
flowers  in  your  hair  when  I  knew  you  !  But  what  have 
you  done  to  yourself,  and,  say,  how  in  the  devil  do  you 
get  the  ends  of  your  mustache  to  stand  up  in  that  sassy 
way  ?  You've  got  to  be  a  dude — a  regular  damned  old 
French  dude  !" 

The  old  familiar  vernacular  warmed  Mr.  Hollenden's 
blood.  Wilkinson  was  the  most  intimate  friend  he  had 
ever  had,  if  a  man  of  Mr.  Hollenden's  nature  ever  could 
be  said  to  have  an  intimate.  They,  at  least,  had  never 
lost  sight  of  each  other,  and  occasionally  they  dictated 
a  facetious  letter,  referring  to  old  times  or  new  deals, 
which  served  to  keep  them  in  touch. 

*  I've  been  ill,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden. 

"  Sick,  have  you  ?  Well,  who's  your  friend  ?"  said 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  jerking  his  thumb  in  the  direction  of  the 
respectful  flunky. 

"  That's  my  footman.  You  needn't  whisper.  He 
can't  speak  English. 

427 


THE    EXPATRIATEvS 

"  Your  footman  !  Great  Scot !  1  thought  it  was  the 
Tzar.  And  can't  speak  English?  Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me,  Jim  Hollenden,  that  you  can  parley-voo  ?" 

"  My  children  don't  think  so.  But  1  can  make  the 
servants  understand  what  1  want." 

"  Well,  I'll  be  switched !     I'm  scared  to  death  of  you !" 

"  Oh,  don't  be  !  1  want  you  to  come  with  me — right 
now.  We'll  take  a  drive  and  then  go  to  breakfast  at 
Ledoyen's." 

"  Breakfast !  Good  land  !  1  had  my  breakfast  at 
seven,  as  usual.  I'll  want  dinner  when  the  horn 
blows  at  twelve  o'clock." 

"  Well,  they  call  it  breakfast.  They  haven't  got  any 
word  in  the  whole  dratted  language  for  lunch.  You 
have  two  breakfasts,  and  then  you  skip  to  dinner.  But 
you're  right.  We'll  have  dinner  at  twelve  o'clock. 
Shall  1  take  you  to  where  you  can  get  the  best  duck  you 
ever  tasted  ?" 

"  No,  take  me  to  the  place  you  said  first.  Le — what 
do  you  call  it  ?" 

"  Ledoyen's.     It's  in  the  Champs  Elysees." 

"  Lee-dwah-yah-n's,  in  the  Shah-n-ss  Ay-lee-zay  !  Oh, 
God  !  I'll  take  that  home  and  fire  it  at  the  old  woman. 
She'll  fall  dead.  Say,  Jim,  you're  a  bird  !  Do  you 
know  it?" 

Mr.  Hollenden  had  been  so  systematically  snubbed 
for  a  year  and  a  half  that  to  be  called  "  a  bird/'  in  cheer 
ful  American  slang,  warmed  the  very  cockles  of  his 
heart.  It  gave  him  new  strength. 

"Here,  fire  the  archbishop  and  lean  on  me,"  said  Wil 
kinson,  as  the  footman  offered  his  mulberry  arm. 

*  Is  that  chariot  yours,  Elijah  ?"  asked  Wilkinson. 
"  And  is  that  emperor  up  there  your  mule-driver  ?  Hold 
my  hand.  I'm  about  to  faint.  You  get  in.  I'm  going 
to  kneel  down  and  say  my  prayers  to  these  two  gentle 
men  in  uniforms  before  1  sink  into  that  overstuffed 

428 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

feather-bed  of  a  carriage.  Say,  if  the  king  has  a  brush- 
broom,  he'd  better  dust  me  off  before  1  put  my  jeans  on 
those  white  velvet  cushions." 

"  John,  you're  better  than  all  the  doctors  and  physic 
in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Hollenden.  "  We'll  drive  around 
through  the  boulevards  first." 

"  Oh,  hang  the  boulevards  !  I've  seen  miles  of  boule 
vards  in  Chicago.  They  put  me  to  sleep.  Let's  see  the 
town." 

"  But  the  boulevards  here  are  the  town.  You  sit  still 
and  let  me^have  something  to  say.  You  never  would  let 
a  man  call  his  soul  his  own." 

"  Sit  still  ?  I  can't  sit  still  in  this  swinging,  rubber- 
tired  thing.  I  feel  as  if  I  was  sitting  on  the  cat  in  a 
hammock.  I'm  getting  sea-sick." 

Mr.  Hollenden  showed  him  the  Bourse  and  the  Opera, 
and  the  ob£lisque  and  the  Madeleine,  and  Mr.  Wilkinson 
pronounced  each  of  them  ' '  great. " 

Then,  through  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  the  victoria 
swept  into  the  Champs  Elyse'es,  and  Mr.  Wilkinson 
practised  on  the  name  of  it  until,  across  the  walk,  they 
drove  into  Ledoyen's. 

Half  a  dozen  waiters  skipped  out  to  the  carriage  to 
assist  them. 

"  Well,  am  I  a  cripple,  or  ain't  I  ?"  demanded  Mr. 
Wilkinson.  "  Take  away  these  frog-eating,  living 
crutches,  and  let  me  walk  on  my  own  two  feet." 

"  They  seem  to  know  you,"  he  went  on,  as  madame 
at  the  desk  bowed  to  him,  and  the  proprietor  in  person 
led  the  way  to  a  favorite  table,  and  snatched  the  flowers 
off  his  wife's  desk  to  place  at  Mr.Hollenden's  right  hand. 
One  waiter  took  their  hats,  another  their  sticks,  while  a 
third  slid  footstools  under  the  table,  which  bent  Mr. 
Wilkinson's  long  legs  painfully. 

"  Tell  'em  to  put  my  feet  in  a  mustard  bath,  hold  my 
smelling-salts  under  my  nose,  and  send  word  to  the  family 

429 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

that  I  died  trusting  in  God.     It  reminds  me  of  that  pict 
ure,  '  The  Death-bed  of  Luther/  "  said  Mr.  Wilkinson. 

To  the  astonishment  of  the  nimble  waiters,  he  kicked 
the  footstools  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  tucked 
his  napkin  into  his  collar,  saying,  briskl\T,  "  Now  then, 
what  shall  we  have  to  eat  ?" 

Mr.  Hollenden  set  himself  to  order.  Each  dish  he  in 
tended  to  be  a  surprise  to  his  friend,  even  though  every 
body  knew  Jim  Hollenden's  prowess  in  dinner-giving. 
The  wine-list  brought  the  proprietor  and  three  waiters 
again.  Mr.  Wilkinson  watched  Mr.  Hollenden's  proceed 
ings  with  affectionate  pride.  He  delighted  to  find  him  a 
person  of  so  much  importance. 

The  table  was  close  to  the  open  window,  and,  almost 
on  a  level  with  their  elbows,  the  warm,  moist  earth  of  the 
garden,  with  its  sweet  green-growing  things  and  tame 
birds  hopping  near,  gave  a  sensation  of  nearness  to  nat 
ure  which  you  get  nowhere  in  all  Paris  except  at  Le- 
doyen's.  The  scents  and  sounds  were  almost  like  those 
which  come  to  you  when  you  lie  down  on  the  ground  in 
the  woods  with  your  hat  over  your  eyes  and  drink  in  the 
atmosphere  of  mid- June. 

These  two  men  felt  its  influence.  Mr.  Hollenden's  pale 
face  and  lack  of  appetite  worried  his  friend,  and  when 
the  cigars  and  liqueurs  were  brought  on  he  leaned  his 
arms  on  the  table  and  said,  kindly, 

"  Now,  Jim.     Tell  me  about  it." 

Mr.  Hollenden  smoked  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then 
brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  blow  which 
made  the  glasses  dance  and  which  brought  the  three 
waiters  again. 

"  I  will  tell  you  !"  he  said.     "  It  '11  do  me  good." 

And  then  he  told  him. 

"  You  and  I  aren't  up  with  the  times,  old  man,"  he 
added,  bitterly.  "  It  is  no  longer  fashionable  to  reverence 
a  woman.  The  women  themselves  won't  let  you." 

430 


THE    EXPATRIATES 

"  Thank  God,  they  will  across  the  pond,"  said  Wilkin 
son.  "  Did  you  never  see  her  after  that  night  ?" 

"  Never  !  She  came  to  see  me  several  times,  but  the 
butler  had  orders  not  to  admit  her.  Then  she  wrote  me  a 
letter — I'll  show  it  to  you,  horns,  cloven  hoof,  and  all — 
in  which  she  asked  if  I  meant  to  keep  my  word  about  the 
tapestries.  I  replied  that  they  had  already  been  taken 
down  and  sent  to  Vrianault,  and  that  she  would  please 
accept  them  with  my  compliments." 

"  By  Jove  !    Jim  !" 

"  Yes,  I  did  !" 

The  two  men  sat  and  looked  at  each  other  and  smoked 
silently. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Mr.  Hollenden,  "  I  wouldn't  have 
missed  coming  to  Paris  for  a  good  deal.  It's  been  an  eye- 
opener.  And  I  wouldn't  have  missed  knowing  the  com- 
tesse.  She's  been  an  education  to  me.  Her  family,  in 
one  way  or  another — mostly  the  other — have  got  enough 
money  out  of  my  family  to  last  them  comfortably  for  life. 
I've  given  her  diamonds  worth  a  fortune.  But  she's  wel 
come  to  them.  I've  been  a  mark,  nothing  but  a  mark,  for 
all  Paris.  I've  been  overcharged  at  every  shop,  every 
hotel,  every  restaurant  I've  gone  into.  I  believe  the 
news  of  my  arrival  was  spread  through  the  police.  I've 
paid  for  broken  windows  I  never  looked  through,  broken 
chairs  I  never  sat  in,  dishes  I  never  ordered,  and  drinks  I 
never  saw.  Whenever  I  go  to  a  hotel,  they  look  over  the 
repairs  they  need,  and  put  'em  in  my  bill.  I've  paid 
commissions  and  taxes  and  extras  and  sundries  until  I 
wonder  now  how  I  could  have  been  such  a  fool.  I've 
alienated  my  children's  affections,  and  sneered  at  my 
native  land,  and  made  more  kinds  of  a  damned  fool  of 
myself  than  any  man  ever  did  before.  And  I'm  broken 
hearted,  John.  I'm  wrecked.  I've  got  only  one  am 
bition  left  in  life,  and  that  is  to  get  home.  I  want  to  make 
up  to  my  children  for  all  I've  done  to  them.  I  want  to 


see  the  flag  again — I  tell  you,  man,  it  takes  the  French 
to  make  you  appreciate  Old  Glory.  I  want  to  shake  the 
dust  of  this  infernal  town  off  my  feet  and  get  back  to 
honesty  and  sincerity.  The  honest  rascality  of  Ameri 
can  business  methods  that  I've  fought  all  my  life  is  like 
the  teaching  of  the  Bible  compared  to  the  slipperiness  of 
the  French.  I  feel  mean  to  think  that  I  stayed  over  here 
while  war  was  going  on.  I've  subscribed  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  Rose's  name  for  the  sick  soldiers,  and  I'm 
going  home  to  make  those  children  hold  their  heads  up 
again.  I'll  win  them  back,  John !  If  your  wife  and 
daughters  are  over  here  to  do  the  same  thing  that  we've 
done,  give  'em  their  head.  But,  mark  my  words,  you'll 
hate  it,  and  they'll  regret  it.  You  can  have  my  house, 
just  as  it  stands,  until  October,  with  my  compliments, 
and  then,  if  you  like  it  and  want  to  stay,  you  can  rent  it 
of  me.  If  not,  put  it  into  the  hands  of  my  agents,  and 
I'll  meet  you  on  the  New  York  pier.  But,  as  for  me, 
I'm  going  home  I" 


FINIS 


Date  Due 


».NTEO  IN  u.«.*.  CAT.  NO.  24   161  (**f 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  362  969    6 


